


The One-Hundredth Floor

by Skarm



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Government, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skarm/pseuds/Skarm
Summary: The shadow government of the Mahou Shoujo Youkai grows to encompass the entire world, promising to provide safety and security to the magical girls of Earth. Powerful families both magic and mundane consolidate their power, amassing immeasurable holdings while the impoverished fight over scraps. The ever-increasing complexity of implantable electronics, genetic modification, and artificial intelligence brings into question the very meaning of humanity.Through it all, the administration of First Executive Akemi Homura struggles to find a path forward, and is forced to come to terms with the results of its inaction.





	1. Prologue: After Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [To the Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/777002) by [Hieronym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hieronym/pseuds/Hieronym). 



**Monday, July 14, 2159**

**9:38 PM**

 

Sakura Kyouko crossed her legs at a bar stool, leaning back slightly as she downed another sip from the beer in front of her. Next to her, a brown haired woman leaned on the bar, gripping a heavily-sweetened mojito in her ring-adorned hand. 

 

“So what, you invite me here to this backwater bar in west Mitakihara and you don’t even have a leak for me?” Dalia Mellon asked, stirring her glass with the thin black straw protruding from its depths. The reporter licked her lips, apparently savoring the taste of lime and crushed sugar on her tongue. “I can’t afford to waste time here if you’re not gonna give me anything, you know? My editor at the Salem Star-Times wants three articles from me tomorrow, and I’ve only got enough sources for one right now.”

 

“Maybe you shouldn’t have taken that deal for three daily articles, then,” Kyouko said neutrally, looking out towards the other side of the bar, where a group of female D&E interns were sharing drinks and sushi around a circular table.  The younger Mahou Shoujo Youkai Governmental recruits were clustered around one silver-haired girl sitting in the middle of the group, whispering together and occasionally pointing at Kyouko. 

 

The reporter shrugged. “I don’t even write most of it myself. They’ve got an AI that they’ve programmed with my writing style. I give it the sourcing and the interviews and it writes half my articles for me. Just have to look over them myself before sending them upstairs to copy.” Mellon glanced over where Kyouko was looking. “Hey, those interns-looks like one of them’s checking you out.”

 

“I noticed,” Kyouko said tersely. Her eyes occasionally darted over to the group, then back to Mellon. “You’re really being a huge help here with the pointing and whispering and stuff.”

 

“What, you’re trying to pick up interns these days?” Mellon asked, a hint of a rabid grin forming on her face. 

 

“What, you gonna write on it?” Kyouko snarked back, her eyes fixed on the silver-haired girl with almond-shaped green eyes who stood up and, with a slap on the back from the green-haired girl next to her, began making her way towards Kyouko’s seat at the bar. 

 

Dalia rolled her eyes. “Please,” she scoffed. “At the Star-Times, we write for a more sophisticated audience of politically-involved mages. If I showed up with tabloid bullshit like this, my editors would rip it up and throw it away.”

 

“Fair enough,” Kyouko said, rolling her eyes. “Then prepare to watch a master at work.” She barely managed to finish her sentence before the silver-haired girl was upon them. 

 

“Umm...hello?” the girl said in clumsy Japanese, fumbling over her words. “You’re Kyouko Sakura, right?” 

 

“I might be,” Kyouko hedged, looking over the girl in front of her. She wore a simple white dress under a purple half-jacket that blended nicely with her long, flowing silver hair and green eyes. “And what’s your name, cutie?”

 

“Um...um...it’s Martha Dahlgren,” the girl said. 

 

“And how much did your friends say they would pay you to come up here and ask me out,  _ Martha Dahlgren _ ?” Sakura asked, pronouncing the foreign name with ridiculous ease. A wicked grin grew on her face as she turned away from Mellon, conveniently hiding her face from Dahlgren’s friends as well.

 

“Um...Four thousand yen, total…” Martha replied, cutely averting her eyes in embarrassment. Kyouko grinned. “Do-do you want me to share?”

 

Kyouko laughed, throwing her head back and taking the opportunity to take another quaff of her drink. “Oh, I don’t need any money.”

 

“Oh,” Martha said, her face reddening. “Well, I’m--I’m sorry for the--”

 

“I’m happy to kiss you for the crowd, if that’s what you want,” Kyouko interrupts, clasping Martha’s smaller hand easily within her own. She massaged Martha’s palm with her thumb, working back and forth in slow, easy circles. “But me personally, I’d like to do a little more, you know?”

 

“L-like what?” Martha asked. Kyouko blinked slowly, looking up at Martha’s astonished face, her glowing eyes.  _ Too easy _ , the Ancient thought to herself. 

 

“Like…taking a trip up to my room?” Kyouko asked, almost casually. With her spare hand, she slowly set a second room key on the bar next to Martha, setting it almost daintily down on the polished granite. Martha’s eyes widened, and for a moment it looked like she was incapable of removing her eyes from the card. “I bet you’re even cuter  _ without  _ that dress. Unless…” Kyouko frowned. “Unless this really is just a bet?”

 

“No, it’s-it’s not that,” Martha stammered, her eyes darting to the floor of the aisle before a squeeze of Kyouko’s hand brought her back. “It’s just…”

 

“I get it, you’re nervous, you haven’t done too much of this before,” Kyouko said nonchalantly, waving her hand dismissively. “Tell you what. Just take the card and go up to my room. It’s 1005 at the apartment building on the corner. I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. If you change your mind, just say so and we’re cool.”

 

“Are-are you sure?” Martha asked. 

 

“I’m sure,” Kyouko said, reaching out with her spare hand to caress Martha’s hip through her dress. She leaned in, waiting to see if the intern pulled away, and then kissed Martha on the lips. Just a brief peck, but probably enough to send the starstruck girl’s head spinning _.  _ “And trust me...I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.” 

 

The younger silver-haired girl squeaked and skittered away towards the stairs, Kyouko’s card clutched between the white knuckles of her hand. Kyouko turned back to Dalia with a grin.

 

“That was...impressive,” Dalia admitted, slapping a handful of thousand-yen bills on the table. “Just for that, drinks are on me. How’d you know it was a bet?”

 

“It’s always a bet,” Kyouko responded, rolling her eyes at the agape faces of Martha Dahlgren’s fellow interns. “Anyways, I’ve got ten minutes, so let me give you that leak…”

 

\---

 

**10:02 PM**

 

Kuroi Kana tapped away at the holographic keyboard displayed by her contacts, her foot rapidly tapping to instruct the keyboard to switch between its kana and romaji modes. Theoretically she could have done this sort of work with the ‘slightest mental inclination’, if the new implant adverts were anything to go by, but she didn’t trust the new models quite yet. Implant technology was evolving so rapidly that even she was having trouble keeping track of it, and was stuck three or four years behind on the most important new improvements, if her daughters’ constant haranguing was anything to go by. 

 

With a quick flourish of underlined kanji followed by romaji, she signed her memo on grief cube collection protocols and flicked it away to its designated receivers with her left hand. Waving her hands in the air, she manipulated a series of documents visible in her contacts, pulling a new memorandum into view. This document was a general reminder of security concerns with new camera-capable implant technology, and was meant for the entire MSY civil service in Mitakihara. 

 

Her fingers dashed from key to key once more, nimbly weaving together the mix of kanji, hiragana, and romaji for loan words that had become the MSY’s internal homebrew language of sorts. Katakana were what she was more familiar with, of course, but katakana-style writing of loan words was often unintelligible to foreign speakers, and then there was the matter of increasing the already-substantial learning curve of Japanese, which was only partially mitigated by primitive contact-based live translation apps--

 

_ Kana-chan _ , read a text message alert in the upper left corner of her field of view.  _ When are you coming home tonight? _

 

When Kana’s eyes hovered over the alert for more than a brief moment, the message box was pulled to the front of the stereoscopic display, seemingly directly in front of her nose.  _ Sorry, Ueda-neko,  _ she replied in all Japanese, using the pet name she and her fourth husband shared.  _ Still busy with MSY work. When I get home, I’ll bring some sake to split, if you want.  _ With another sigh, she sent the message and flicked the conversation away, pulling down an email from the right side of her vision. This one was from the Middle East Soul Guard regional station chief, Aliya bin Basir. 

 

Without prompting, a holovideo began to play, using her two contact lenses to imitate a three dimensional image. In front of her, a group of three Asian-looking girls and a mix of girls in various shades of brown leaped out of the water onto the dock, and then from the dock onto a twenty-five foot fishing boat. The boat’s owner scrambled out of his chair, reaching under the pilot console for what Kana guessed was a firearm. Before he could raise the weapon, the girl lunged forwards, wrenching the gun out of his hand and tossing both it and its owner into the water. 

 

_ Video posted by a local news station in Khasab, Oman,  _ the attached message read.  _ Going viral in the Arabic-language web. Please advise on our course of action.  _

 

Kana reset the video to the beginning and zoomed in on a small area of the security camera’s frame, watching the hands of the girls as they emerged from the water. Each girl’s hand bore a nearly identical silver ring. 

 

Kuroi Kana dragged the text message box down once more.  _ Never mind. Sake will have to wait.  _

 

\---

 

**10:30 PM**

 

Odette Francois watched, nearly mesmerized, as the First Executive shook hands with a group of European women in front of a throng of press. To the press, of course, this was just another international merger-another acquisition of a local shipping company by international transport conglomerate D&E Enterprises. But to her-

 

“Does it bring back memories?” asked Anton through her wristwatch communicator. 

 

“I suppose,” Odette replied in clipped Parisian French, flipping through a stack of digital memoranda ‘hovering’ in front of her. In reality, they were just pixels relayed from the watch on her wrist to the digital contacts in her eyes, and then projected onto her retinas. “A pity that more of my old friends were not present.”

 

“It’s a pity that you weren’t allowed to come along,” Anton replied. Odette said nothing, looking through the latest stats on the MSY’s ultra-high-frequency trading AI. Quantum computing advancements had allowed entire stock trading algorithms to complete cycles in the amount of time it took older generation computers to clock a single time. But even as their brand-new Volokhov V3 artificial intelligences improved their own algorithms over time, their profit margins stayed fairly constant. Given the fractal nature of the stock market, there was only so much one could do to predict the ups and downs of the market, especially on such a microscopic time scale--

 

“We miss you, honey,” Anton continued. ‘Me, the kids, the--” Odette’s husband shuddered- “The  _ in-laws. _ They won’t stop asking me if you’ll be home for Christmas.”

 

“I should be able to secure time off,” Odette assured him. “If I can’t, I’ll just resign. See how the in-laws manage with me bothering  _ them  _ all the time.”

 

“That’d be a sight to see,” Anton laughed. “But I suppose it’ll have to wait until the MSY thing is done, right?”

 

“The MSY thing is never done,” Odette lamented. “There’s work and work and more work, with no sense of proportion. No matter is ever trivial enough to leave for another day. Such is life, I suppose, but all the same-”

 

“I only want you to do this if you want to do this,” Anton said, his face twisting into a concerned frown. “If you want, I can contact your friends from the Système, and they can find a replacement for you.”

 

“There’s no place I’d rather be,” Odette said simply. Anton raised an eyebrow. “Well, except for with you and the children, of course. Put them on?”

 

Anton tilted his head slightly, and tapped a few buttons on his communicator, adding the kids to the call. Odette sighed and swiped away her work. The algorithms would grow themselves whether or not she was there, but she couldn’t say the same about her children.

 

\---

**Tuesday, July 15, 2159**

**5:59 AM**

 

Martha Dahlgren’s eyes snapped open, the ceiling of an unfamiliar apartment appearing in front of her eyes. Almost immediately, her right hand shot out to the bedside table, snatching up her communicator and flicking away the morning alarm the moment it appeared. 

 

The intern sighed and slipped out of bed, looking back at the snoring redhead still buried beneath the covers. Her eyes briefly glanced over the room, making her shudder with glee at the ample evidence of the previous night still scattered across the room. She allowed herself around five seconds to relive the previous night, basking in her blissful memories like a high schooler, before setting off for the bathroom and the shower. Sure, most of her other friends among the MSY interns had seen her accept a room key from the Ancient, but that didn’t mean she could afford to go into work smelling like  _ the  _ Sakura Kyouko. 

 

_ And there’s no way I  _ don’t  _ smell like her,  _ Martha reflected as the hot water sprayed onto her from all sides. The Ancient had eased her in when she arrived just late enough to make Martha worry, but after the first round, the redhead had insisting upon  _ spicing things up _ , even using a cube’s worth of magic in search of deeper sensual pleasures. 

 

After a few minutes standing under the hot running water, Martha waved her hand in front of the shower’s motion sensor, holding her arms straight up above her and letting the hot air blow errant drops of water from her skin. She only needed a few last cursory sweeps with a towel to fully dry herself so she could step into the same dress and shoes she wore the previous day, padding quietly towards the door so as not to disturb Kyouko. 

 

Before she could reach the door, Kyouko seized her with an arm around the waist and the slightest nibbling around Martha’s earlobes. Martha hummed and glanced to her left, seeing Kyouko’s angular face grinning at her again, a grin she was well familiar with after the previous night. Blinking, Martha glanced over to the bed, where another Kyouko was lying sideways in bed, the sheets draped appealingly over the Ancient’s supple thighs and slender torso.

 

“I’m not used to people tryin’ to slip out on me,” the Kyouko holding Martha said. “With the noise you were making, I figured I was good enough for you to stick around.”

 

“I have to go to work,” Martha protested, squirming inside the Ancient’s arms.  

 

“Whaddaya mean?” the Kyouko in bed asked as the Kyouko holding Martha began to slowly wander Martha’s dress with its hands. “You don’t have to be there until eight, right?” 

 

“Interns start at--at seven,” Martha groaned, halfheartedly pushing away from Kyouko’s grip. 

 

“That’s forty-five minutes away!” Kyouko said indignantly. “You’ve got plenty of time-we can squeeze in another round, can’t we?”

 

“I already showered,” Martha insisted, pushing away more firmly this time. To her surprise, Kyouko released her, dissolving the clone into thin air. “I’d love-love to do this again, but right now, I really have to go.” The intern half stumbled, half dashed out the door, letting it slam behind her. 

 

Kyouko sighed to herself, and rolled back over in bed, letting sleep consume her once more.

 

**7:13 AM**

 

“You’re still doing homework?” Shizuki Sayaka asked somewhat indignantly, dipping a ladle into a pot of freshly cooked miso soup. Scoop by scoop, she transferred the contents of the pot into two identical beige ceramic bowls. “I thought you and your friends were working on it last night?”

 

“It was harder than I thought it would be,” her daughter Sakura replied, shoveling clumps of rice into her mouth with her right hand while her left hand danced in midair with an imaginary pen, scrawling the solution to an integral into a document in her contacts. “To be honest, I’m still not sure I have the right answers.”

 

“Eat your breakfast,” Sayaka sighed, snapping her ring-clad fingers. “Let me check over this.” The lime-haired woman waited expectantly for the  _ ping  _ of the file arriving, then opened it, scrolling through the pages of problems and solutions with one finger. Sakura matched the sigh with one of her own, alternating scoops of rice and sips of soup. 

 

“This one’s wrong,” Sayaka pointed out, opening a shared window between the two contacts. “See, look. Integral of a sine function from zero to infinity isn’t zero. It’s gotta be some kind of real number.”

 

Sakura glanced up, then tapped her chopsticks on the table. “It has to be zero,” she argued. “The parts of the function greater than and less than zero are the same size, so if you keep doing it forever it’ll add up to-”

 

“No it won’t!” Sayaka replied. “Infinity isn’t a multiple of pi, so it doesn’t end at the same time as a period. It’s gotta be a real number.” Mock-enraged, she scribbled all over the sheet of paper, before adding a new one to the assignment and scrawling out a simple wave with curved edges, blinking and clicking her tongue a few times to switch to a translucent highlighter that matched her hair so that she could color in the area under the curve. “See, look, If you cut it off somewhere, then there’s no way it’ll be zero.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” Sakura exclaimed, jabbing a finger wildly in the air at where Sayaka supposed the document was in her contacts. “How do I choose what number to write?”

 

“I don’t know!” Sayaka huffed. 

 

“Well, either way, I have to write down something,” Sakura said glumly. When Sayaka didn’t reply, Sakura shrugged, deleting the extra page from the document and replacing the answer she’d written down. “Wish I could just use one of those new implant apps for help. Why do they even bother making us learn it by hand?”

 

Sayaka shrugged. “An implant or a computer can do math faster than you, but all it can do is follow instructions,” she said, repeating a message she’d delivered at one point or another to all five of her children. “If you don’t understand the work, how will you know what instructions to give?”

 

“Have you seen those new Volokhov systems?” Sakura asks. Sayaka frowned. 

 

“I work with a few,” Sayaka hedged, making a literal mental note to update her words of wisdom for when she had her next child. “They’re more human than your typical computer, but that means they make human mistakes as well.”

 

“But they still get all the analyses done much more quickly than a human could,” Sakura said. “By the time I’m your age, they’ll be perfect. So why bother with the calculus?”

 

Sayaka looked up, glancing at Sakura across the table. “Hey, I didn’t like math very much in school either, you know. But if you want...think of it as just something to get through on your way to making miracles, you know?”

 

“Miracles?” Sakura asked. 

 

“Technological miracles. Space elevators! Colonies on strange worlds! Eternal life! You can’t do that if you don’t know math.” Sayaka quickly explained, her eyes returning to her emails. She wanted so badly to tell Sakura the truth. To tell Sakura that miracles and magic were real, and that one day, they could change Sakura’s life, just as they had changed the life of her eldest sister. That the ‘corporation’ she worked for was no financial giant, but a front for a world government of magical girls, seeking to end the death and despair that used to plague magical lives for good.

 

“Right,” Sakura said, her voice trailing off. Sayaka glanced at Sakura, trying to read her face. Perhaps Kyubey had talked to her, perhaps she had been told the truth...or perhaps she just thought math was boring. At Sakura’s age, it was hard to tell. 

 

Either way, Sakura deserved to learn about magic by herself, and make her own choice.

 

**7:35 AM**

 

Kuroi Kana sat at her desk, scrolling through a massive list of documents in her contacts. In retrospect, she really should have passed this to someone at the central Soul Guard office as an internal security matter, but it couldn’t be helped now. The Soul Guard may have been dedicated public servants, their director Mami Tomoe even more so, but even they worked 8 to 6 and went home every night. She could react faster and work faster than they could. 

 

Three of the six girls on the docks had been easily identified-a search of MSY location databases revealed them as a group of “mentors for hire”, currently visiting Dubai on business. Searching their names in the MSY’s contract registry revealed a long series of trainees stretching from Tokyo to Chicago to Nairobi to Nice, all  _ very  _ green and  _ very  _ wealthy. Given the political climate in the region, it made sense for the three unidentified girls to want some extra help getting started, but even so, something about the situation wasn’t adding up.

 

Kana flicked her hand forward, sending a dart flying at the replica bulletin board on the far wall, where it buried itself in the grainy ‘enhanced’ image of one of the native girls. The board’s hardwood-backed cork sheet barely withstood the impact, rattling back against the wall for several seconds. Four hundred more years could pass, and she’d still be using pushpins and red string to organize her thoughts.

 

“They could have just  _ bought _ the boat,” Kana muttered, leaning back in her chair and reaching for another dart. She spun the dart effortlessly between her fingers, trying to piece together something coherent from the files she’d read. “And if you have to steal one, why go all the way to Oman?”

 

A polite knock on her closed door jarred her out of her reverie. 

 

“Who is it?” Kana called. 

 

“Government agents,” the female voice growled in a remarkably poor imitation of a male voice. “We’ve heard you’re mishandling classified information.”

 

Kana laughed slightly, standing up and covering the bulletin board with a roll-down tarp. “Come in, Hana,” she said. 

 

The door opened, revealing Kana’s middle-aged daughter, Kuroi Hana. Her silky brown hair hung down to just below her shoulders, perhaps showing a hint of grey near the roots that matched the flecks within her eyes. She wore an unassuming plain white shirt and black trousers, her hands unadorned by the Soul Gem rings worn by so much of Kana’s extended family.

 

“Ueda called me and asked me to check in,” Hana said, setting a steaming venti-sized coffee on the desk across from Kana. “You doin’ okay? You look totally dead right now. Maybe you should call in sick today.”

 

Kana glanced at the window behind her, which displayed her sunken cheeks, slightly unruly hair, and a pair of brown eyes that were beginning to become bloodshot near the corners. “Can’t call in,” she muttered. “Just one crisis after another.”

 

“There are other people around, you know,” Hana said. “The MSY has plenty of people. You don’t have to put everything on yourself all the time.”

 

“I know,” Kana said ambivalently. She hesitated for a moment, taking a long drag of coffee and taking in the slight hints of milk and sugar. “Thanks for dropping by,” she said. “Tell Ueda-neko I’ll be home tonight, okay?”


	2. Focusing Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyouko and Odette whip votes for an important infrastructure bill. Sayaka and her right hand woman Elise find new ways to fight for their agenda. In between covert operations, Kana digs deeper.

 

> _The younger me who entered her name in the Rules Committee race for the new Mitakihara Special District seats thought that she could jump straight into her new chair in the Committee Chamber and start making things better for Mitakihara, and perhaps for all magical girls. The reality was quite different._
> 
>  
> 
> _In those days, new Rules Committee members were expected to serve as staff for the more experienced members of their party until they gained enough of a following of their own to earn their own staff and the trust of their party leaders. Doing so was, of course, no requirement of the position, but it_ was _a requirement if one desired any sort of influence over the legislative process, and indeed any political future. (This practice largely ended with the passage of the Francois-Wersterung Act in 2111, which established permanent funding for support staff for Rules Committee members, but lived on within the Akemi administration itself as a matter of convenience, allowing a startling degree of unification between the Executive herself and the chamber meant to hold her in check.)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Internally I balked at the idea. I was a duly elected representative, and my constituents expected me to represent_ them, _not the policies of whoever I ended up farmed out to. But in the time between my victory in the 2070 Rules Committee special elections and when I spoke the office, I came around to the idea. As a staffer, I could do more for the mages of Mitakihara-no, the mages of Earth, than I could alone._
> 
>  
> 
> _The workload caught me by surprise. I had expected to be able to spend as much time with my husband and daughter as I had in my previous role as a D &E ‘vice-president’. But in addition to that role, I would now have the responsibility of analyzing policy for my ‘supervisor’ Kuroi Kana, attending votes and subcommittee meetings on the floor, and making the case for the policies I knew would help Mitakihara. _
> 
>  
> 
> _I learned so much about coalition building and public policy from Kuroi and Sakura in those younger days. But ultimately, when I began to question the wisdom of their ideology, and by extension, the policies of the Akemi administration, I couldn’t turn to them. So I looked elsewhere._

 

-Excerpt from Chapter 5 of _Together We Can_ by Shizuki Sayaka, published to MSY members March 21st, 2170, declassified and released to the mundane public November 16, 2441.

 

\---

**Tuesday, July 15, 2159**

**7:50 AM**

 

“What are you working on?” Yuma asked, standing behind Kana’s chair to get a better view of the corkboard.

 

“Viral security cam video out of the Middle East,” Kana replied laconically, tipping back her coffee cup. When no liquid emerged, she huffed and tossed it into the trash bin across the room. “Boat theft. Definitely carried out by magical girls. But something isn’t adding up about all of it. Something just doesn’t make sense.”

 

“Do you really think it’s that big a deal, in the scheme of things?” Yuma asked, setting her hand on Kana’s shoulder gently. “It’s just a video, they get made all the time. We don’t want to overreact to it-”

 

“I’m worried about underreacting to it,” Kana said. “The video itself isn’t what surprises me. Taking it down would be trivial for the Soul Guard. What’s more concerning to me is that the events in the video happened in the first place. Those native girls had enough money to hire a high priced group of mercs to mentor them, and still felt they had to steal a boat? Why?”

 

“You might be reading too much into it,” Yuma says, scratching her chin. “Sometimes girls their age just do things for no real reason. They might just be acting out against their parents.”

 

“But then why bring the mercs with them?” Kana asked. “It all doesn’t add up, which means there’s a piece we’re missing. I want to find it.”

 

“Farm it out to the Soul Guard, then,” Yuma said. “Or get an intern or two. But I need you on other things today, too.”

 

“Can you give me one of the policy interns for a day?” Kana requested.

 

Yuma frowned. “Ask Odette after senior staff,” she said. “She’s got most of the interns right now, plus the one or two working for Kyouko and the communications people working with Rika.”

 

“Right,” Kana muttered, standing up from her chair. “We’ve got senior staff in a bit.” Her flat shoes brushed aside the piles of the dark crimson rug in between her desk and the door. Yuma followed her into the hallway, where hundreds of low level interns, staff, and trusted non-contractees clogged the aisles between dividers, constantly buzzing back and forth between the rows of secure data terminals, their supervisors’ offices, and their own shoebox cubicles.

 

“Do you want a long term assistant?” Yuma asked, turning sideways to fit between two low level communications staffers. “Even just an intern? We can create a security policy internship for you-maybe two or three, so that none of them get too burnt out.”

 

“You’ve tried offering me interns before, and it’s never worked out,” Kana observed, turning around and glancing over her shoulder as she walked. “Why would it be different this time?”

 

“Because this time, your intern or interns are not going to be working sixteen hour days.”

 

“Can’t avoid that,” Kana shrugged. “Even if they can’t get their work done in an eight hour day, the work still has to get done. Otherwise--”

 

“I’m completely serious,” Yuma said. “Let me get you three interns. I can have them work 8 to 4, 4 to midnight, midnight to 8. That way there’s always someone here when you’re here for you to bounce ideas off of or assign to paperwork.”

 

“I’d lose an hour every shift briefing the new girl on what’s happened since then,” Kana complained.

 

“Fine. 7 to 5, 4 to midnight, 11 to 8. That leaves one hour for each new intern to brief the previous one.”

 

“Won’t that cost a fortune in overtime?”

 

Yuma flicked Kana on the shoulder with a finger. “Since when have you cared about overtime? Besides, since you haven’t had a staff since your last intern ended up in a MHD padded cell five years ago, I started spending your staff budget on Odette. I can just as easily take some of that funding back.”

 

Kana sighed deeply. “Just...give me someone for one day. Maybe two. That’s all I need to put together the pieces on this thing. One all nighter never hurt anyone.”

 

“Sure. But you’re done after the operation today,” Yuma said. “Go home. Get some sleep. Because that all nighter sure seems to have a number on _you._ ” She stopped outside her office, pulling open the door for Kana. Painted a dark green that matched the color of Yuma’s hair, and filled with mahogany furniture and books, the room looked for all the world like a corporate office from the twentieth century. Even the tea set centered on the hand-carved table was vintage gold and white porcelain, lacking the hydrophobic surfaces that modern sets had. Inside, Kyouko and Odette sat at the table, reading documents on their contacts.

 

“Alright,” Yuma began, her voice jumping up an octave or two. “Let’s get started. I need to meet the First Executive at the airport in half an hour, so we don’t have much time.” The green-haired Ancient frowned, looking around the room. “Where’s Rika? I wanted to start with Communications, but--”

 

“I’m here,” said Chiyo Rika, dashing in and shutting the door behind her. Her black hair was tied up in an austere bun. “Sorry, I was running late this morning.”

 

“Anything you wanna say?” Yuma asked. “Anything going on in Communications that you need help with or think we should know?”

 

“Magical news coverage is still focused on the summit with the former Systemé that the Executive returns from today,” Chiyo said, her fingers delicately perching on the table’s edge between Kyouko and Kana. “We should get one more cycle of good press about that, and then the third day of stories will be about things that went wrong, things that aren’t quite ready, things that are still a matter of debate. We want something good to announce tomorrow to preempt those.”

 

“I started on that last night,” Kyouko said. “Leaked some stats on cube revenue beating projections to Mellon. She’ll be making calls to confirm it today, should hit the wires by mid-afternoon.”

 

“That’s a start,” Chiyo said. “Any upcoming policy initiatives we can talk about?”

 

“Kyouko, how are we doing on votes for the Central African Relay initiative?” Yuma asked. “It’ll pass Leadership no problem, but I’m wondering specifically about--”

 

“Votes look good,” Kyouko said. “It’ll pass the Public Works subcommittee no problem, likely unanimous. And then I’ve got two hundred forty yes votes, mainly from our coalition and Sorcière Oblige. Two hundred twenty seven firm nos, mostly from Mahoutai and some from our coalition’s right wing.”

 

“That leaves thirty three up for grabs,” Odette finished. “Those’ll be from local representatives, recent MSY additions. We get eleven on board, that gets us to two fifty one.”

 

“Good,” Yuma said. “Hopefully this helps us out a bit with bringing the Oblige people closer, and it’ll be good for D&E in the region.”

 

“What votes left us on the right?” Rika cut in. “I don’t want to get ambushed in the press room later today.”

 

“Mainly some of the US girls. Texas Special District is voting no, as is Southeast US. Outside of that, we lost St. Petersburg and Moscow as well, but I think they’re just upset about D&E publically cozying up with pro-Canada nations.” Kyouko reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a stick of pocky. “If you’re interested I can have a chat with them and try to bring them back in line.”

 

“Sounds good,” Rika said. “What’s next?”

 

“Lunch orders?” asked Yuma’s personal assistant Olga Koskinen, who had apparently been waiting at the door for a break in the conversation.

 

“I’ll have a turkey--” Kyouko tried to cut in.

 

“Later, Olga,” Yuma said. “And close the door, for now. We have to talk about some classified information.” Looking sufficiently chastened, Olga closed the door behind her. “Soul Guard special forces out of Montreal will be launching a raid against a magical girl group known locally as the West Churchill Butchers around 10:30 in the morning, depending on when we get the go from the Executive. That’s around 8:30 PM local time. Operational details are mostly secret for now, but I thought I should give all of you a heads up, especially Rika.”

 

“Understood,” Rika nodded. “In case we don’t get to speak again between the op and my briefing, can you give me the Soul Guard team name and specialty? The press will want to know--”

 

“You’ll get the info post operation,” Yuma said. “If necessary, we’ll delay the noon briefing until the op is concluded so that you can be fully informed before you go in the room.”

 

\---

**8:05 AM**

 

“‘Over thirty percent of the Coalition has not faced an election challenger in the twenty-second century’”, Elise Wersterung read, scanning through a new draft of her keynote speech for the Sevité Association convention later that year. “Without accountability to the magical girls of the world, they have become head of an ossified magical bureaucracy that churns through your cubes and your resources on useless projects, instead of on making your lives safer and easier. The MSY deserves better than the Coalition at its head.’”

 

Elise frowned, clearly unhappy. As one of the oldest surviving magical girl cooperatives in the world, dating back to its foundation during the Haitian revolution in 1803, the Sevité Association had been particularly difficult to persuade to enter the MSY, maintaining a notoriously isolationist rule over the magical girls of Haiti, Cuba, Jamaica, and the Dominican Republic. While their former territory was just another district within the MSY in modern times, the organization had continued to hold yearly banquets where magical politicians of every stripe went to explain their philosophy and push their agenda.

 

“It’s just a first draft,” said Kazahana, tapping away at a section further down. “We have another month or two before the Sevité keynote, so I’ve got time to touch it up if you think the tone’s too soft.”

 

“The tone’s just right, but it’s the wording I don’t like,” Elise continued.  “‘Ossified?’ Nobody who isn’t ossified themselves will even know what that means!”

 

“That’s an easy change,” Kazahana said, deleting the word.

 

“And you’re using ‘your’ too much,” Elise continued. “‘Our’ is better, it implicitly puts the speaker the listeners on the same side. And in that last clause there at the bottom, say ‘average magical girls’.”

 

“Average?” Kazahana asked.

 

“Nobody thinks of themselves as strange or unusual,” Elise explains. “When you say average, most listeners will hear ‘someone like me’.” As a flash of green hair passed by, Elise looked up. “Oh! Shizuki-san! You’re here!”

 

“Good morning, Elise,” the lime-haired delegate said, snagging a muffin from a small platter in the lobby. “What’s the agenda for today? I was helping my daughter with her calculus homework earlier, so I missed most of the memo.”

 

“Same issues as always,” Elise said, her blond pigtails hanging down her back as she matched pace with Sayaka down the noisy but relatively clear hallway. “The speechwriter you assigned me is no good. I keep having to rewrite everything she gives me.”

 

Sayaka raised an eyebrow. “She’ll learn your tastes eventually. And it’s not as if you’re giving tons of speeches every day. Plenty of time to write your own for the important ones, and let her cover you on floor arguments and such.”

 

“I’ll never get used to it,” Elise grumbled. “But whatever. What’s the status on Zhou? Getting her endorsement for the next election cycle would be huge for the party in China.”

 

Sayaka frowned. The older-than-Ancient daughter of a Hong Kong banking magnate had proven to be unusually resilient politically, surviving two major Coalition challenges to her Beijing Rules Committee seat and holding one of the few Second Executiveships from outside the Coalition. Over the years, her extended family had sprouted several magical girls, some of whom held their own seats in the Rules Committee. “We’ve scheduled a meeting for next Monday. Why do you ask?”

 

“Just wanted to make sure,” Elise said. “I know you two don’t like each other very much-”

 

“It’s not so much a personal dislike. I can get over that. She’s too extreme for my liking.”

 

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?” Elise complained. “Her association with Mages First?”

 

“We’re a government of magical girls, and sure, I think we should spend our funds on magical girls first. But that’s a long way from thinking that magical girls are inherently _superior_ to humans.”

 

Elise shrugged. “I suppose,” she said noncommittally. “Not that we don’t have numerous documented advantages.”

 

“Magical girls _were_ humans once upon a time,” Sayaka continued. “Just because we made a deal with a white, fluffy little devil doesn’t mean we magically become some master race of human being.”

 

“It’s a nuanced issue on which different reasonable people can have different reasonable views,” Elise pattered. Sayaka simply scowled in response. “Look, I know you don’t like her. I get it. But you two have more views in common than you think. It’d make my job next election cycle easier if we have her backing. I’d do it myself, but a woman of her stature-  
  
“I’ll do it,” Sayaka said. “Just don’t expect me to enjoy it.” The Mahoutai party leader sighed, turning to Elise. “How about your area?” she asked. “What’s the whip count on Central Africa? I know it’s gonna pass committee.”

 

“Two hundred and thirty five yes, from the Coalition and Oblige. Two hundred thirty two nos-all of our party, plus some we peeled off of the Coalition. That leaves--”

 

“Thirty-three left over, then?”

 

“Coalition thinks that,” Elise said, a radiant grin lining her face. “But I spent Monday night calling up some representatives from the old regional magical girl organizations. I got Mexico and the old Sevité areas to flip to our side, and the Coalition won’t know it until they do their next whip count tomorrow.”

 

“That puts us at...two forty seven, right?” Sayaka said, counting mentally as best she could. “So we only need three more to force Homura to break the tie. Four more and we kill the bill.”

 

“Right,” Elise said. “Admit it-right now, in this moment, you’re in love with me.”

 

“Don’t push it,” Sayaka deadpanned. Elise giggled. “But seriously, good work. We’ll be able to keep the CAR money in the MSY coffers, and hopefully be able to redirect it to projects for magical girls.”

 

“Agreed,” Elise nodded. “And I’ve got some calls set up today for the both of us to try to secure those last few votes. I’ve got eastern Europe and the Russian districts, you’ve got Morocco, Egypt, and Israel. We’ll meet at lunch and see where we’re at.”

 

“Sounds good. Send the details to my contacts. And while you’re at it, write up a floor plan for later.”

 

Elise grinned. “I’ve got just the thing in mind.”

 

\---

**9:10 AM**

 

> _In the past few years, a new wave of climate-based migrations has caused conflict in regions increasingly distant from the equator, and crippled economic output in regions increasingly starved of both labor and food products to sustain said labor. Yet paradoxically, cube income in these regions has skyrocketed over time, an increase that is at odds with the working theory that wraith spawn frequency and/or density is proportional to human population of the region in question._

 

Martha Dahlgren rubbed her forehead with both hands, sighing. The assignment Odette had given her to work on at the start of her rotation with Odette’s economic policy shop was mind-numbingly boring, even with the aid of the MSY’s massive quantum supercomputer to crunch numbers on her behalf.

 

> _Instead, perhaps a more accurate theory is that wraith density is dependent not on the level of human population, but on the amount of human suffering and despair. This theory has historically been considered but ultimately brushed aside by magical scholars, notably Tomoe et alia in_ An Empirical Study of Wraith Behavior, _where they argued that there was no reliable mechanism for measuring despair on the scale of a population, and that any formula they tried would necessarily leave out elements of unhappiness that could not be effectively measured._
> 
>  
> 
> _For this paper, we analysed data acquired in New York City, comparing wraith spawn data collected by the MSY against traditional indicators of mundane unhappiness and ‘despair’, such as murder rate, divorce rate, unemployment rate, and the rate of fatality from illicit drug overdoses among the mundane population. By monitoring the changes in this data over time, we are able to determine multiple correlations between traditional indicators of unhappiness and increased frequency or size of wraith spawns._

 

“Good morning, Martha,” Odette said, tapping Martha on the shoulder. Martha turned around, looking up as she typed.

 

“Good morning, Miss Francois,” Martha replied politely. “How’s it going?”

 

“Good, good,” Odette said in English. Martha blinked, her fingers momentarily pausing their rapid twitches in the air. “Are you enjoying your assignment?”

 

“Not particularly,” Martha said honestly. “I know it’s important, but it doesn’t feel like there’s much I can contribute.”

 

“Want a change of pace for a day?” Odette asked. Martha looked up, then returned to her assignment. “Miss Kuroi has a little something she’d like help with. Just some clerical stuff.”

 

“Isn’t Miss Kuroi’s work usually classified?” Martha asked, eyes wide.

 

“This isn’t,” Odette said. “Everything in the files you’ll be going through is public. She just told me she needs another eye to go other it, and I suggested you because you’re the best intern I’ve got. So you up for it, or not?”

 

“Sure,” Martha said, standing up and sliding her rolling chair under the desk. She followed Odette on a winding path through the carpeted halls, making her way to Kuroi Kana’s office on the west wall of the building. The former SMC leader knocked on Kana’s door frame.

 

“Kana-san?” Odette said politely in Japanese. “You mentioned earlier that you wanted an intern? This is Martha Dahlgren, one of my interns. She’s been getting bored with my assignments, so I figured I’d trade her to you for a day.”

 

“Good morning, Martha,” Kana said, her head tilting up and down as she looked Martha over. “Same clothes as yesterday?”

 

“Y-yes,” Martha stammered back.

 

“Me too,” Kana said, waving in the general direction of a chair. Martha sat down, letting Odette fade away into the hallway. “You here just for the day, or are you transferring to me full time?”

 

“Just--Just for the day, I think?” Martha replied. “If Odette doesn’t mind, I’m sure I could stay for longer-”

 

“If you’re going to work with me long term, you’ll need to get cleared for classified information,” Kana said flatly. “For now, I can give you discretionary clearance on this case alone, but if we’re going to keep working together you’ll need to pass a full Soul Guard workup. Your past friends in…” Kana paused for a moment, her eyes unfocused as they stared at information no doubt projected on her contacts. “Your friends in Chicago, your grades back in middle school, your internet history, even your most personal inner thoughts-the Soul Guard will be looking at everything. So think hard about whether there’s anything you don’t want us to know. It’s okay if you want to keep things private, but it means you and I can’t work together.”

 

“I’m fine with that,” Martha said. “I doubt there’s anything about me the MSY doesn’t already know. But, just for today--what’s the job?”

 

Kana typed a few letters with her fingers, then flicked something towards Martha. A moment later, over a hundred files began downloading to Martha’s contacts.

 

“There’s been a viral video going around the Middle East that shows evidence of both magic and criminal activity, and I’m looking into it to find out why the girls did what they did in the video. The first document is my notes up to this point, the next three are files the MSY kept on the three registered mentors in the video, and the other hundred-odd documents are biweekly reports from the local Soul Guard branch and communications between said local branch and Soul Guard headquarters.” Martha’s mouth hung slightly open as she began to slowly scroll through the list of files.

 

Kana stood up from her desk, leaning in on both hands. “I don’t have time to go through all these myself, so that part will be up to you. I’ll be back in an hour or two to see where you’re at. Oh, and obviously don’t mention any of this to any of your fellow interns.”

 

Without another word, Kana walked out of the room, closing the door softly but firmly behind her. Martha leaned back in her chair and sighed, opening the first file with a flick of her finger.

 

\---

**9:20 AM**

 

Kyouko leaned back in her leather-backed office chair, tapping away at an invisible keyboard. “Look, the Central African Relay is necessary from a corporate standpoint. Not specifically the MSY, you get me? But it’s a huge deal PR-wise, and it’ll increase profits for D&E.”

 

“Not like we see any of those profits down here,” Henrietta Garrity said, her thick Texas drawl still nearly impenetrable to Kyouko after years of wrangling.

 

“Because America really has a huge shortage of quantum servers,” Kyouko snarked back. “Jesus, Henry, you can’t be serious about this. We need your district’s votes on this.”

 

“You want my district’s votes, you gotta give us something for our cubes,” Garrity said loudly. Around her, a few other voices cheered along. Kyouko rubbed her eyes and said nothing for a moment. A slight sound of footsteps echoed through the transmission, followed by a slam of a door.

 

“You alone now?” Kyouko asked sardonically.

 

“My district’s getting tired, Kyouko,” Henrietta said, more quietly now. “We’ve been the top cube producers in North America for two years now, but with all those cubes comes a lot of costs. We’ve only got two healers in district, and one of them’s way out in Odessa. Poor girl drives six hours every time someone in Midland or Amarosa gets hurt during a hunt on her own cost. And it’s not like she can move closer either, because those smaller towns need protection too.”

 

“Tough out there with everything so spread out,” Kyouko agreed. “Nothing I can do there, though. Don’t exactly have any hundred kilometer range teleporters I can spare you.”

 

“I understand why the CAR is important, Kyouko. I want to vote for it, I really do. But me and Madeline over in San Antonio are the only Coalition girls you have left in the Southwest, and Mahoutai is pumping a ton of money into Texas trying to force us out next election. If you don’t let us break ranks every now and then, you won’t have our votes when it really matters.”

 

“This _does_ really matter, Henrietta,” Kyouko said. “That internet relay in Africa has bigger implications than just the ones for D&E. It’ll bring the whole region into the twenty-second century. And with us in control of it, we can protect the flow of information in all the countries in the region, both in and out. We could topple dictators, end corruption--”

 

“Kyouko, I _agree_ ,” Henrietta said firmly. “But if I vote for this and get nothing in return, this is the last thing you’ll get from me. I’ll get blown out in April next year and that’ll be it.”

 

“What are you lookin’ for?” Kyouko asked.

 

“Something to help us out with the rural areas, mostly. Texas has a big enough magical population to be a Special District, and there’s D&E shipping locations and offices in the major cities, but nothing in the smaller towns out in the desert. If we could get some money for some sort of institutional support program-another healer or three to spread around, some MHD support staff, a teleporter or a damn helicopter for all I care.”

 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Kyouko said. “And in the meantime, no talking to the press, you hear me? You and Madeline can’t say a peep about this. I’ll get your rural support initiative into the bill.”

 

“See that you do,” Henrietta said, closing the connection as she finished. Kyouko stood up, pacing around the room as she opened another call.

 

“Odette?” she asked, this time in perfect Japanese.

 

“We work in the _same building_ ,” Odette sighed. “You could just walk over and talk to me in person, Sakura-san.”

 

“I got another phone call to make right after this,” Kyouko replied. “Quick question. Say we were gonna hire some girls to go work support in rural areas. Say, Texas or New Mexico. A few healers, a few telepath relays, maybe one or two adjusters or enhancers and some mentors. That won’t break the bank, right?”

 

“Probably not,” Odette said. “Say twenty staff total? That runs around two million dollars a year, maybe up to three to four if we have to pay extra to get people to go there. But it’s the US, so we’ll probably have healers from poorer regions jumping at the call. What about cubes?”

 

“They’re some of our top cube producers, and cube expenses on those girls won’t count against their surplus. So we should be good there. You think we can find a quarter of a billion yen in the budget?”

 

“I can squeeze it in,” Odette said. “Money’s there, just have to get it through politically. Can you sell that to the committee that’s doing the writeup?”

 

“That’s my next phone call,” Kyouko said, hanging up and immediately dialing the next number. “Ah, yes, Chairwoman Piketty, good morning. Listen, I know it’s short notice, but I want to see if you can squeeze some extra appropriations into the budgeting for CAR…”

 

\---

**10:04 AM**

 

Homura Akemi’s stepped down the jetwalk stairs, one hand raised to shield her eyes from the morning’s Mitakihara sun. She looked down the stairs at the small throng of business reporters lining the path from the steps to her car, with microphones raised and flashbulbs flickering, and sighed.

 

She and the other Founders had taken turns as the public face of D&E over the years, after hearing one too many times from fashion magazines and tabloids who wanted to know about her ‘fountain of youth’. When too many questions were asked about the all-female board of directors, some of the Founders volunteered to pose as men for their next few years in. At one point, Homura had taken on that role herself, in the last few years before there were high enough ranking non-contracted personnel to provide a veneer of diversity. It was just another duty in the long list of responsibilities she took on for the MSY.

 

“Tanaka-san!” cried the closest reporter, jabbing her microphone frighteningly close as she called Homura’s current alias out. “The Democratic Republic announced that they’ve granted right of way for the Central African fiber project. Do you have any comment?”

 

“I’m glad to hear that the DRC has dropped their opposition to the project,” Homura said smoothly. “Internal discussions on the project are still under way, so I unfortunately can’t offer any more comment at this time.”

 

“Tanaka-san!”

 

“Tanaka-san!”

 

“The Director will not be taking any more questions,” one of her current MSY bodyguards said, splitting the crowd in front of Homura while another one flanked her from behind. Homura ignored the rest of the reporters, pushing through the crowd and sitting down in her limousine. Across from her, Yuma Chitose scanned through a document on her contacts.

 

“How was the trip?” Yuma asked.

 

“Exactly what you saw in the press, really,” Homura demurred, crossing her stockinged legs as the car rolled into motion. “Nothing extraordinary to report.”

 

“Good,” Yuma said. “There’s a Soul Guard op waiting on your go, the one with those girls that have been giving the Canada office trouble. Normally Kana-san or I would oversee it, but since it’s a Special Measures grab, Mami said she didn’t want to proceed without your go ahead on this.”

 

“Special Measures?” Homura asked. “We haven’t used that protocol since the SMC days.”

 

“You’re right, we haven’t pulled it out in a while,” Yuma agreed. “But these girls are hiding in a city of ten million people, and they use violence and magic at the slightest provocation to defend themselves. If we give them any opportunity to fight back--”

 

“I understand,” Homura cut in. “Have Mami send me the mission plan. I know it’s urgent, so I want to get up to speed during the car ride.”

 

\---

**10:20 AM**

 

“Kuroi-san?” Martha asked.

 

“Yes?” Kana said, looking up from the display she was studying on her contacts. “What is it?”

 

“I’ve been looking through these documents, and there’s...some discrepancies.”

 

“What kind of discrepancies?” Kana said. “Make it quick, because there’s a meeting I have to be at in around 5 minutes.”  


“Well...um...according to one of the files you sent me, the Soul Guard procedure for requesting assistance goes as follows. First a local group requests Soul Guard enforcement, then the Soul Guard evaluates the request for legality and actionability, then--”

 

“I know how the Soul Guard requisition process works,” Kana said. “I worked there for fifty years.”

 

“Yes, and all of those requests back and forth, from local groups to the regional office and from the regional office to Soul Guard headquarters in Kazamino are dated and signed. When responding to a request for assistance, it’s protocol to respond within 48 hours and include the sending date of the message being sent in the subject line of the response. But…”

 

Kana glanced down at her wrist communicator, checking the time. “I have to go,” she said. “Keep going while I walk.”

 

“Wait!” Martha said, tagging along. “I’ve seen at least three request-response chains now labeled with the wrong dates. One of them is a request for central office assistance from the regional Soul Guard office in Riyadh, dated June 25th. Then there’s a response sent from Kazamino on the 29th, declining assistance from the central office, that references a request sent on June 28th.”

 

“And?” Kana asks, weaving her way through the slightly less crowded aisles away from the policy areas.

 

“There was no request sent from the Riyadh office on June 28th, at least not in the files you sent me,” Martha said.

 

“That’s odd, but not unusual,” Kana said. “The request probably got lost in the files, and the intern who found it decided to cover themselves by falsifying the date.”

 

“But there’s a sustained pattern of the same kind of incident,” Martha continued. “In the past month, I’ve counted three similarly misdated request-response pairs. All three of them are in requests made by the Riyadh office to the central office.”

 

“That’s unusual…” Kana mused. “If the Soul Guard’s lower level personnel were dropping the ball, we’d expect them to randomly delay several different offices’ requests. But all of the delayed messages are from Riyadh?”

 

The Ancient brushed Martha aside as she waved her pass at the security guard monitoring the Situation Room entrance. She slid her silver ring off her finger, transforming it into a gem glowing from within with an earthy brown and placing it into a small plastic receptacle. Inside the security desk, a spectrometer whirred to life, checking the exact color and pulsation frequency of the Soul Gem against Kana’s registered pattern.

 

“It’s suspicious,” Kana finally agreed. “But not actionable yet. It could still be just a coincidence.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Martha asked.

 

“Keep digging,” Kana said simply. The desk blinked, ejecting Kana’s soul gem. Kana weighed the gem in her hand briefly, transforming it back into a ring on her left hand. “Go pull the back and forth with Riyadh going back, say, five years, and write down every pattern you can find. I want you to brief me as soon as I’m out of this meeting, got it?”

  
\---

**10:40 AM**

 

“Elise! I finished my call schedule. Israel is flipping on the CAR, and I’ve got Morocco leaning no as well.” Sayaka barged into Elise’s European-styled office, her leather heels bouncing neatly across the low pile blue rug lining the center of the darkened room. Elise didn’t respond, instead jabbing a finger towards her ear twice.

 

“Milada, I can’t directly promise you money for your district in exchange for your vote, you know that. Mahoutai doesn’t have the majority we’d need for that yet. What I _can_ promise you is that with the influence we’ll gain from this win, we’ll be able to force increased relocation quotas into the next MHD budget cycle. That means more people leaving economically devastated regions and more people moving into newly temperate Siberia, which means more Rules Committee representation for you and the others in Russia,” Elise said, twirling a pen between the fingers of one hand. She waited quietly for a moment, apparently listening, before saying, “Go ahead and discuss, but make it fast. This bill is moving quickly on the floor. I need to know where you stand in an hour. Call me back.”

 

“St. Petersburg playing hard to get?” Sayaka asked.

 

“St. Petersburg is in,” Elise said. “That was me working on the Siberia district.”

 

“A little extra credit?” Sayaka laughed.

 

“Fastest growing district in the world is a hell of a coup, if we can get them with us on this,” Elise said. “And if we can get them with us long term, that could win us four or five seats, and put us in the driver’s seat come the next elections.”

 

“Sounds good,” Sayaka hedged. “But let’s not get too confident yet. They could still come back a no.”

 

“I’m pretty confident I have them,” Elise argued. “But that’s not the point right now. Did you send out your memo about our floor plan for the bill?”

 

“Yeah,” Sayaka said. “All of our voters who are registered Mahoutai party members are to decline their speaking time on the floor. Everyone else is to use their time as normal.”

 

“I see…” Elise muttered, scratching her chin with the pen clutched between her fingers. “And then the vote happens today, instead of tomorrow, because we waived enough speaking time to bring the bill up for a vote before end of business today. It could work, but are you sure about this? It’s a huge commitment that we can’t easily back out of.”

 

“I’m sure,” Sayaka said. “It’s a big risk, but not an unreasonable one. Even if we don’t end up winning the--”

 

‘Sayaka! Elise!” Kazahana yelled, barging into the office as two urgent emails pinged Sayaka and Elise’s contacts. “There was a shootout in Brazilia just now, between mundane criminals and the police. Brazilian news is reporting that a magical girl down the street from the shootout was killed.”

 

“What? They know she’s a magical girl?” Sayaka demanded. “How in the--”

 

“She wasn’t killed directly,” Kazahana explained. “A stray bullet struck her gem while she was taking cover. Since she wasn’t shot at all, the police are assuming an undiagnosed heart condition, but--”

 

“This is perfect,” Elise snapped. “Kazahana, call the magical press. Tell them we’ll be making a statement in thirty minutes. As soon as you finish, start writing up some talking points for Sayaka.” As Kazahana scrambled away, the Mahoutai whip turned to Sayaka. “I know you don’t like this sort of thing, but--”

 

“I don’t like this sort of thing,” Sayaka agreed. “Not every tragedy that happens to a magical girl is because they were stuck in a bad part of the world, and to act like it is--”

 

“To act like it is is politically useful,” Elise cut in firmly. “Like it or not, the biggest piece of the Mahoutai platform I wrote last election cycle was our relocation and gentrification initiatives. This is _exactly_ why those platforms are important, _exactly_ why they’re beneficial. If that girl had been relocated to Canada or Portugal or Spain, or even if we had put her up in some faux-hyperclass mansion in the suburbs, she’d still be alive right now. The current administration is too politically correct to admit it, but it’s the truth, and someone should be saying it. And if not us, then who?”

 

“I know why you want me to go on air,” Sayaka sighed. She rubbed her forehead momentarily, then continued, “No, I’m not going on air for this ten minutes after the news. We should show some respect...some decorum.”

 

“We’re on the air first, we control the narrative,” Elise said. “If not you, we still have to put someone on the air.”

 

“You should do it,” Sayaka quickly said. “This is your thing, after all. I’ll call the victim’s family and smooth over things with the delegates you’ll offend with your rant.”

  
\---

**10:45 AM**

 

“Is the Executive running late?” asked Mami Tomoe. Kana sighed, taking another sip of the terrible coffee brewed inside the MSY’s Situation Room.

 

“You tell me,” Kana said, rolling her eyes. “You know, you’re the one with the authority to give the go order. You don’t need to wait for Executive Akemi to get back.”

 

It was Mami’s turn to sigh. “This is the first Special Measures operation we’ve carried out in nearly a century. I don’t think it’s improper for me to request Executive approval. I considered going even further and demanding a Leadership Committee vote to approve future SM operations.”

 

Kana tapped her fingers. “Back when I ran the Soul Guard, I didn’t ask for approval for any operation. I did what had to be done.”

 

Mami nodded. “That’s a difference between the two of us, I suppose.” Before she could continue, the doors swung open again.

 

“Give me one last review on the particulars of this operation,” Homura Akemi said, sitting down at the head of the table. “Target, team, operational plan.”

 

“The target is a small group of rogue magical girls known locally as the West Churchill Butchers. A year ago, they claimed a ten block radius in the western district of Churchill, Canada as their territory, and began attacking all other girls who ventured in during wraith spawns. Their girls were initially inexperienced at combat, but their large innate potential and unorthodox innate abilities caught the regular Churchill girls off guard. Attempts by Churchill regulars to negotiate a settlement were rebuffed.”

 

“We’re up to date on the probable cause and the exhaustion,” Yuma cut in. “I briefed the Executive in the car on the way here. What about masquerade risk?”

 

“During the regional Soul Guard’s most recent attempt to capture the Butchers, dated June 10th, 2159, the Butchers fled from the wraith spawn and shed their transformations, attempting to conceal themselves within crowds of mundane civilians. While the Soul Guard was initially able to track them, normal Soul Guard rules of engagement forbid pursuit into areas where mundane traffic is too high to make reformats or mind wipes practical,” Mami said. “A request was made for central office advice and assistance as per standard protocol, and at the recommendation of my deputy, I provisionally approved the Special Measures operation plan you’re all looking at now.”

 

“Who are you sending in on this op?” Homura asked. “If the regional Guard couldn’t cut it, then who are we planning to use?”

 

“Task Force Aurora’s Team One is standing by to carry out the grab. Their information is accessible to anyone standing in this room for the duration of this op, and all of them have run Special Measures operations before.”

 

Kana pulled down the information to her contacts, glancing through the operations team for review. She was well familiar with ‘Sedna’s Daughters’, as TF Aurora’s elite team had taken to calling itself, having put together the task force herself during her own tenure as Soul Guard Director.  

 

“This is a city of ten million people, and you’re sending in a team focused on frontline combat?” Kana asked. “Most of Aurora’s ops are in rural Canada and Alaska; they don’t specialize in urban combat.”

 

“The plan is to approach the group covertly while they dine at a local cafe, which human intelligence sources tell us they frequent. Aurora support teleporters will covertly approach the targets in plainclothes. When the team leader gives the signal, the teleporters will make physical contact with their assigned targets long enough to teleport them to separate locations where TF Aurora’s other members are lying in wait, and can engage without fear of civilian incursions. A local Churchill girl will pay the Butchers’ restaurant bill on their behalf, and will apologize to the cafe for their sudden departure.”

 

 _Good to know we care about the sandwich store,_ Kana snarked. Silently, of course. Such an outburst would be a mere distraction.

 

“When can we launch the operation?”

 

“You can give the go order any time, Madam Executive,” Mami said. “We estimate a half hour window to give the go before the targets move and we lose them.”

 

Homura folded her hands and looked down at the table, considering. Finally, she said, “Go.”

 

Mami held a finger to her ear. “Sedna One, Operation Frozen Heart is a go. I repeat, Operation Frozen Heart is a go.”

 

A moment of pregnant silence hung over the room. Finally, Yuma asked, “When will we know if the operation succeeded?”

 

“Anywhere between fifteen minutes and a few hours,” Mami replied. “Longer if the targets are late for dinner.”

 

\---

**11:05 AM**

 

Kyouko leaned back in her chair, watching a live feed of the Rules Committee chamber. Of course, it wasn’t practical for all five hundred members of the legislature to fly in from their districts around the world every day; instead, members could attend sessions in person or teleconference in as they chose, and vote via the internet if they could not attend. In practice, this meant that the physical legislative chamber was often empty or nearly so, but the _feed_ still produced a live account and public record of floor debates and subcommittee activities.

 

 _Do they really think I didn’t know they flipped the Middle East?_ she smirked to herself, watching as member after member of the quasi-populist Mahoutai party waived their time for debate. _There was no way we were gonna take them or the Russian districts anyways. And while they were paying attention elsewhere, I stole back Texas, southeast US, and all three Australian districts. That’ll be more than enough to get us over the line._

 

“Sakura-san?” asked a voice from outside her door.

 

“Come in!” Kyouko said. Martha stepped inside, folding her hands and legs demurely as she slid into one of the two chairs opposite Kyouko’s desk. “Oh, it’s you. What’s up?”

 

“Um...well...I’m not sure I should even be asking you about this,” Martha began, “But…”

 

“I don’t do quickies at work, if that’s what--”

 

Martha looked away cutely. “Me neither. It’s not about that, although I wouldn’t...mind doing it again sometime.”

 

“You order lunch?” Kyouko asked. Martha nodded. “Well, give me a second to figure out what happened to mine, and then we’ll go over it.” The Ancient flicked her eyes towards the corners of her contacts, expertly scrolling through to Yuma’s assistant Olga. “Olga, when’s the food coming?”

 

Olga hesitated for a moment, then said, “You never ordered. Neither did anyone else, for that matter. Yuma cut me off and I never got a chance to slip back in.”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Kyouko shouted. Across the desk, Martha visibly winced. “So what, now I gotta go wait in line in the cafeteria like everyone else?”

 

“It...seems that way, Kyouko-san,” Olga said, withering under Kyouko’s anger. “I’m really sorry about this, but--”

 

With a contemptuous hand gesture, Kyouko ended the call. She stood up, shoving her rolling chair back hard enough to bank off the wall of her office like a cue ball off a felt-covered wall. “Come on, Martha,” she said, heading towards the elevator down to the 98th floor cafeteria. “Let’s get some food.”

 

“But I already ordered some,” Martha protested. Still, she followed Kyouko into the crowded line for the elevator down to the cafeteria. “Anyways, I wanted to ask you about Miss Kuroi.”

 

“Kana?” Kyouko asked. “I thought you worked for Odette.”

 

“She traded me for a day or two to help Miss Kuroi with a paper trail,” Martha explained, wringing her hands.

 

Kyouko sighed. “Kana’s a real hardass, but you can handle her.” She paused for a moment, before qualifying, “Probably.”

 

“ _Probably?_ ” Martha gasped.

 

“Her last intern ended up needing an emergency MHD intervention,” Kyouko said. “To be fair, that Erika girl wasn’t the most stable person to begin with, but…”

 

“You’re not really helping,” Martha pointed out.

 

“Just don’t listen to Kana when she tells you she needs to work later,” Kyouko said. “Tell her you need to spend time with _me_ -”

 

“I’m not telling her that!” Martha squeaked.

 

“That first part was serious,” Kyouko said, looking Martha in the eyes. “Remember, you’re just an intern. You don’t have to stay after hours, no matter what anyone tells you. When it’s five or six, you can clock out, no matter what anyone tells you.”

 

The Ancient looked up at one of the monitors above the elevator, which was playing a live feed of the mages-only news network jointly owned by the Salem Star-Times and the Asunaro Journal. Or, at least at the moment, a full screen ‘Breaking News’ banner.

 

“What’s happening?” Martha asked.

 

“Either something really good,” Kyouko began, setting her jaw, “Or something really bad.”

 

“We’ve just received confirmation that a magical girl _was_ killed inadvertently in today’s mundane shootout in western Brazilia. Fourteen year old Beatriz Curacao was taking shelter under her bed when a stray bullet penetrated through the wall of her dwelling, striking her Soul Gem as it rested on her dresser. Both the Brazilia Police Department and the Soul Guard declined to comment on the ongoing...”

 

“Two thousand yen says Mahoutai has something to say about this,” Kyouko snarled, nudging Martha’s arm.

 

The anchor reached for her earpiece, before saying. “We go live now to Mahoutai party whip Elise Wersterung, outside the Rules Committee chamber. Obviously, this shooting is a horrible tragedy, and our thoughts and prayers are with Beatriz Curacao’s friends and family. Do you have any comment on the situation?”

 

“Shit!” Kyouko shouted, loud enough that several phone calls at nearby desks went silent for a moment.

 

“I certainly do, Asuka,” Elise said, her voice calmly enunciating every syllable. “First and foremost, Mahoutai is committed to supporting the Brazilia magical girls in any way we can, as we support all trusted non-contractees. Chairwoman Shizuki is making a personal phone call to the group as we speak, and so will the Executive later today, I expect. But this isn’t just about Beatriz-it’s about all the average magical girls living in unsafe living situations around the world that haven’t been given adequate support by the current administration.”

 

“Isn’t it a little soon to be so expressly political about the situation?” the anchor asked.

 

“I think it’s the perfect time,” Elise retorted. “Beatriz’s tragic death may have gotten the attention of the magical world today, but this is the fifteenth time in the past two months that a magical girl or their family has been the victim of violence in their communities. The incidents have been in Russia and in Syria and in Somalia, and yes, Brazil and Venezuela as well, and these are injuries, emotional harm, and sometimes deaths that are totally avoidable, and that the current administration has frankly been derelict in preventing.”

 

“Can you elaborate on that a bit? Because-”

 

“These are the softest questions I’ve ever seen!” Kyouko fumed.

 

“I’d be happy to,” Elise said. “As you’re aware, a key piece of Mahoutai’s platform is giving average magical girls living in more dangerous home situations the right to improve their living situations through migration or through resettlement in safer neighborhoods, which the nonpartisan MSY Society office has proven reduces the rate of violence against magical girls and their families. Even if girls don’t want to leave their home countries, moving them into traditionally hyperclass neighborhoods drastically reduces the need for MHD cube expenditure.”

 

“You said you want to move disadvantaged girls into hyperclass neighborhoods. Isn’t this extremely expensive monetarily? Does the MSY have the funds to pay for the expansion?”

 

“Last year’s financial statements show clear, massive surpluses for both D&E and the MSY’s other holdings, which the current administration has decided to waste on pet projects rather than improving the lives of average magical girls,” Elise said. “Take today’s discussions in the Rules Committee about the Central African Relay project. The administration is blowing trillions of yen on upgrading internet speeds in the Congo Jungle by two, maybe three gigabytes per second, when just half that money would allow them to pay for the migration of all the magical girls in Africa to countries with internet access of that quality.”

 

“Get me Francois-san and Chiyo-san right now!” Kyouko barked at a nearby secretary, who scrambled towards the opposite side of the elevator line. “We need to put someone on the air in the next ten minutes or we’re gonna get killed!”

 

“What can I do?” Martha asked. Kyouko turned around and glared for a moment, before softening up.

 

“Go back to your work with Kuroi-san,” Kyouko said. “Do the work she wants you to do. Call me if you’re having any trouble with her.” Martha nodded and shuffled away to her cube, leaving Kyouko in the center of Policy’s crowded cubicle area. “And somebody call MNN and tell them we want to put someone on the air!”

 

“I’m here!” called Rika, spilling at least two coffees as she shoved her way to Kyouko. “My deputy is setting up a satlink with MNN. You’re going on air the second Sayaka finishes her interview.”

 

“You really think you can trust me not to curse out Asuka Matsujiri right now?” Kyouko asked.

 

“Try to avoid that,” Rika deadpanned. “But you’re the most well known person in the administration other than the Executive herself, and you’re better at righteous indignation than I am.” Chiyo and Kyouko barged back through the halls towards the Communications wing, where a spare office was rapidly being rigged as an impromptu interview set, with a magically conjured hanging white cloth and two studio lights stolen from the press room.

 

“I’m not ready on the talking points on migration,” Kyouko confessed. “We don’t think about it all that much, because, you know, it’s stupid. I can’t say that on air, but we both know it.”

 

“I’ll be in your contacts from my office while Matsujiri is speaking,” Rika said. “If you hit a brick wall and don’t know what to say, pivot back to ‘politicizing a tragedy’. If you’ve already done that, then bring up earmarking by national origin in the Mahoutai platform.”

 

“Got it,” Kyouko said. The Ancient sat down in the interview stool, instinctively crossing her legs and adjusting her hair with the help of the viewscreen mounted above the camera.

 

“You’ve got a zit,” Rika pointed out, before running back to her office. Kyouko growled, lancing the offending pimple with a trickle of healing magic. Sure, she wasn’t skilled enough to put limbs back on like other healers she’d known, but she picked up a trick or two along the way.

 

“Live in ten seconds!” called Rika’s deputy, who quickly recentered the camera on Kyouko’s head and shoulders. “Five, four…”

 

When the deputy press secretary’s fingers counted down to zero, a voice immediately appeared in Kyouko’s ear. “Here with us now is Sakura Kyouko, MSY Founder, Second Executive, and Executive Akemi’s Deputy Chief of Staff for Legislative Affairs. Sakura-san?”

 

“Morning, Matsujiri-san,” Kyouko replied.

 

“Earlier today, the death of a magical girl was confirmed in a collateral damage shooting in Brazil’s capital. Does the administration have any official comment?”

 

“Our thoughts and prayers are with the Curacao family in their time of need,” Kyouko said smoothly. “Soul Guard clairvoyants and telepaths have been dispatched to the scene of the shootout to ensure that any potential evidence finds its way into the hands of the mundane police, and to provide anonymous tips to ensure the shooter or shooters face justice.”

 

 _We_ did _actually send a Soul Guard forensics team, right?_ Kyouko asked.

 

 _We are now_ , Rika growled. _Stay focused. She’s going to ask about Elise’s stats from the MSY Societal Research Division. That stat is correct, but it leaves out something important…_

 

“I wanted to follow up on something from our interview just now with Elise Wersterung, of the Mahoutai party,” Matsujiri said. “Shizuki-san referenced a MSY SRD report that demonstrated a clear correlation between increases in relocation and decreases in violent incidents involving magical girls and TNCs. Have you seen this report yourself?”

 

“I have,” Kyouko nodded. She hadn’t, of course, but now was hardly the time to admit ignorance.

 

“If the report is correct, do you think the administration should be putting a greater focus on helping at-risk magical girls to relocate or gentrify?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Kyouko said, shaking her head. “Later in that same report-”

 

_Page 20! MGCas doubled, MunCas times 10--_

 

“Page 20, I believe, there’s a section discussing casualties during wraith spawns, both magical and mundane. Reduced magical girl population in an area due to migration is directly tied to an twofold increase in casualty rate during wraith hunts and an increase of an order of magnitude of mundane casualties within the miasma,” Kyouko said. “If mass migration occurred on the scale Shizuki-san proposed, magical girls who chose to remain would suffer massively increased casualties, and their friends and loved ones would be much more at risk of death or injury during wraith spawns. The increase in fatalities would primarily occur in less affluent regions of the world, particularly in Africa and the Middle East.”

 

“You mentioned Africa, which reminds me-are you aware of Elise Wersterung’s severe criticism regarding the value of the Central Africa Relay? What value do you believe the Central Africa Relay brings compared to how that money might be spent elsewhere,”

 

“I’m not aware of any _serious_ criticisms of the value of the CAR, no,” Kyouko said.

 

_Don’t get too combative--_

 

“You were aware of Wersterung’s other statements in the earlier interview-”

 

“I’m aware of the words Elise said, I just don’t think they’re serious,” Kyouko deadpanned. “The CAR will make our African satellite company the premier ISP for a continent that contains roughly 20% of the world’s population. While it costs us money to construct in the short term, in the long term it’ll turn a massive financial profit, enough to double MHD funding by 2200.”

 

There was a long pause. Then: “Thank you for your time, Sakura-san. We’ll be back after this break with a panel discussion on the Central African Relay--”

 

“We’re out,” confirmed Rika’s deputy, flipping off the camera.

 

“Good work,” Odette said. “That’ll stop the bleeding, at least.”

 

“Good,” Kyouko said. She stepped away from the camera setup, letting the various staff scattered around do the busywork of cleaning up the impromptu interview set. “Now it’s time to go on the attack. CAR is still on the floor and I’m not ready to give up on it yet.”

 

“Me neither,” Odette agreed. Then she paused, the former Systeme leader’s face twisting in thought. “What was the count, last you checked?”

 

Kyouko huffed. “Razor thin. I let Mahoutai have a few free flips to make them confident while I hit some of their safe votes. Before Sayaka’s interview I was at two fifty two yes, two forty four no, four undecided, but after this whole clusterfuck in Brazil we’re gonna lose some.”

 

“You think we can still win?” Rika asked, her face pensive. “If we go all in on this and lose the vote, things won’t look good for us. Mahoutai might try to force through a resolution calling a referendum on the administration.”

 

“We’ll slow debate on the floor,” Kyouko said quickly. “I’ll send out a floor memo telling everyone in the Coalition who hasn’t spoken yet to use their full time, gum up the works. That’ll push the final vote to right at the end of business, so we’d have at least a full day to regroup.”

 

“The safe option is just to have the bill pulled,” Rika argued. “Let debate finish, then sink the cloture vote and force more debate time. We’ll easily have enough votes to do that-”

 

“You know what, Rika?” Kyouko barked. “What the fuck is the point of putting anything on the floor if we’re just gonna run for the hills whenever Mahoutai draws its swords? We back down now and we’ll only bleed more members to Mahoutai. If we can’t deliver, our supporters will back someone else.”

 

“We should ask Yuma what she thinks-” Odette began.

 

“Not an option,” Kyouko said flatly. “Yuma’s still in on a Situation Room thing, god only knows when she’s gonna get out. Until she leaves that meeting, we fight for this bill, is that clear?”

 

\---

**11:20 PM**

 

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Curacao,” Sayaka said sincerely. There wasn’t much else she could say, of course-as a mundane citizen, all Beatriz’s mother knew was that her daughter worked as a bicycle messenger for D&E. “I’m told she had many friends at the local branch. Before...all this happened, they were recommending her for a promotion.”

 

“T-thank you, Miss Shizuki,” Maria Curacao sobbed back into the phone. “It’s just...it’s very unusual for someone from higher up in a company like yours to care about things down here.”

 

“I do, believe me,” Sayaka said. She rubbed her forehead, leaning on the polished cedar desk in front of her. “If you need any help with funeral arrangements, or with settling Beatriz’s affairs, please don’t hesitate to ask us for help.”

 

“That’s...that’s very generous, Miss Shizuki,” Beatriz’s mother required. “But I can’t ask you for money-”

 

“No, I insist,” Sayaka said. “The truth is, Beatriz earned a substantial sum in benefits while she was working with us, and if she had been promoted, she would have earned a sizable bonus. Together, that should be more than enough to cover your costs in the meantime.” That was a lie, of course-being a bike messenger in a third world country wasn’t exactly the highest paying job, even if one was a magical girl. _But there’s no way she’ll take the money...not unless she thinks Beatriz earned it anyways._

 

“No, really, it’s not a pro--”

 

“Take it,” Sayaka insisted. “Whether you want it or not, I’ll have it wired to your accounts. Beatriz earned it; she’d want you to have it.”

 

Maria paused. “Well...if Beatriz really earned it…”

 

“She did,” Sayaka reassured. “And...the number I called you on is my personal number, okay? If there’s anything else you need, anything at all, call me back.”

 

“I will,” Maria promised. “And...thank you, again, for everything.” The line went dead.

 

 _She won’t call back_ , Sayaka knew. Not that she wouldn’t pick up the phone if Maria did.

 

“Good job,” Kazahana said, sitting across from Sayaka. “The leader of the local magical girl group is apparently busy on a hunt in the area, but she’ll be back later on.”

 

“They shouldn’t be hunting right now,” Sayaka muttered. The grief and pain of losing one of your group was already hard enough on a magical girl’s soul gem; she knew from experience just how hard keeping a steady head and a clear gem was when you were already on edge.

 

“Different people deal with grief in different ways,” Kazahana replied, sighing.

 

“Yeah, I know, but…” Sayaka matched Kazahana’s sigh. “Tell me when the leader of the Brazilia magical girls is back, I guess. Actually, go coordinate with the Executive’s office on who’s going to call there first. That is...if they’re even willing to coordinate with us after Elise’s interview.”

 

\---

**11:45 AM**

 

Kyouko grabbed the rolling chair from the far corner of her office and sighed, swinging it back into place. She immediately flopped down into the chair, kicking her high-heels off under her desk and throwing her feet atop the desk.

 

 _So who do I have again_ ...she thought. _Right. Taggart, out of Chicago_. Flicking through her contacts idly with one hand, she found the appropriate number and dialed.

 

“Did you dial the wrong number?” the voice on the other end immediately replied, before the second ring. “If you’re looking for a Coalition representative from Chicago, I can give you Sarah’s number-”

 

“No, I’m calling for you, Diane,” Kyouko said in crisp English. “I wanna make you an offer.”

 

“You know we don’t play for the same team,” Diane Taggart pointed out. “I’m the Mahoutai representative in Chicago.”

 

“I also know you’re no huge fan of them either,” Kyouko pointed out. “Too much government interference for your liking.”

 

“I’m glad we understand each other,” Taggart said sardonically. “So what’s the big deal? Why call me now?”

 

“There’s going to be committee hearings in a few weeks on MSY corporate holdings, including holdings of D&E. That includes Taggart Rapid Transit. I’m friends with Odette, who’s going to be the administration’s voice on the committee, and I can get her to say that TRT will be able to operate more efficiently and produce more MSY profit if it goes back to being publicly traded.”

 

There was a pause in the background. No doubt Taggart was busy salivating over the prospect of buying her father’s business back from the MSY. “I don’t like handouts,” Taggart said. “What is it gonna cost me?”

 

“You’re a yes vote on CAR,” Kyouko explained. “In fact, let’s make that all the Mahoutai votes in Chicago. If all of you vote yes on the Relay, we’ll make sure you get your railroad back.”

 

There was another pause. Then Taggart said, “I’ll get the votes. But that vote to release the company better be unanimous.”

 

“Deal,” Kyouko said immediately. Not that she could actually get a unanimous vote with any reliability. But she could get a majority no problem, which was all Taggart would need anyways. “You sure you can deliver those votes?”

 

Taggart laughed dryly. “This is _Chicago_. If I couldn’t rule the local party with an iron fist, what would even be the point of holding office?”

 

Kyouko laughed back. “I figured,” she said, hanging up the phone. The Ancient flipped back to the vote checklist she now shared with Odette and Rika, checking off all 5 of Chicago’s unfriendly reps.

 

There was a brief pause. _What the hell?_ Odette asked.

 

 _You got_ Taggart _?!_ Rika demanded.

 

 _Yep,_ Kyouko said smugly, looking for the next number on her call list. _She just wants her railroad back._

 

 _Oh great,_ Odette snarked back. _Yeah, no big deal, let’s just remove the most profitable high speed rail in North America from the MSY portfolio. That’s no big deal._

 

\---

**1:30 PM**

 

“Legally I’m not allowed to make any explicit promises,” Elise Wersterung said, rolling her eyes. “But unofficially, Mahoutai is surging. We’re the fastest growing political affiliation in the MSY, and sometime in the next twenty years, we’re gonna take the Executiveship from Homura for the first time. And when that happens, you’re gonna want to be our friend, you know? There’ll be a purge of the Coalition bureaucracy, and plenty of high level positions to fill.”

 

“I’m not even going to _be_ in government if I vote no on this,” complained Anodiwa Ngoto. She was one of the many representatives in non-first world countries whose district spanned borders, covering a large swathe of northeast South Africa and the southern regions of Zimbabwe and Mozambique. “You Japanese don’t understand the climate down here. People are excited for the CAR, especially here in my home country. There’s a chance for real reform.”

 

“I’m not Japanese, I’m Belgian,” Elise retorted. “And anyways, the CAR is overrated. You think some dictator in the DRC or Uganda isn’t gonna shut that shit down the moment it’s inconvenient to them? It’s not gonna do anything for Africa in the long run. And you could do more for Africa as a part of our future administration than you can from the Rules Committee. Think about how much good you could do as MHD director, hmm? Or maybe the--”

 

“Do you really think me groveling for treats from a _European_ ’s hand is going to make this look any better?” Anodiwa snapped back. “You’re no different from the colonialists. You always think you know better than us what Africa needs. Your arrogance is astounding. I simply can’t believe--”

 

Elise hung up the phone. There really wasn’t any point in continuing a conversation when someone pulled the _colonialist_ card on you. Sighing, she stood up and walked the several feet to Sayaka’s office.

 

“What’s up?” Sayaka asked. “I can’t talk long-I’m on hold with Hawaii.”

 

“We lost Ngoto down in Zimbabwe,” Elise said. “And probably the rest of south central Africa as well.”

 

Sayaka sighed. “Damn it, Elise…”

 

“We always knew there was a chance we would lose,” Elise pointed out. “Africa stood to gain from this bill, and without their votes it would be incredibly hard for us.”

 

“I’d still oppose it every time, though,” Sayaka said.

 

Elise shook her head, turning to look out the window, down at the cars moving at a crawl down the street a mere ten meters below them. “Your idealism works when you’re at rallies, or when you’re giving a speech on the floor. It doesn’t work on me.”

 

“And?” Sayaka asked.

 

“It’s nice to be principled, to have things you stand for and won’t back down from. But none of that means anything if you don’t _win_.” Elise turned back towards Sayaka. “Every political idealist in history had someone like me by their side. Someone who was willing to get their hands dirty. Kennedy had LBJ. Lenin had Trotsky. Robespierre had Couthon.”

 

“I don’t know if drafting Robespierre into your argument is a good idea,” Sayaka deadpanned. “Or Lenin, really.”

 

“Sayaka, if you want to change the MSY, you can. But you need to _win_ before you can change anything. That’s what I’m here for. Let me do my job.”

 

“Do your job better,” Sayaka insisted. “Then I won’t _need_ to compromise.”

 

\---

**2:17 PM**

 

“Shouldn’t the op be done by now?” Yuma asked. “I know there’s radio silence, but--”

 

“I’ll ask what’s going on,” Mami said. In her contacts, she flipped a few digital switches, connecting her audio feed to the Situation Room speakers. To her troops, she said, “Sedna One, you’re on speaker, status?”

 

The feed crackled with static for a moment, due at least part to the satellite delay inherent with transmitting thousand miles across the earth. “Merlin, Sedna Five and Six reported targets on site five minutes ago,” the voice said, her Japanese tinged with what sounded like a vaguely English accent. “Targets are currently ordering entrees.”

 

“Roger that, Sedna One. Keep us informed.” There was another long pause in the situation room. Finally, a crisp, businesslike voice carried through.

 

“Waiter moved along. Tango One through Three in position at the next table over. Ready on your go, Sedna One.”

 

“Sedna Five, Sedna Ten, Sedna Fifteen, report,” said Sedna One. “In position at grab sites?”

 

“Sedna Five, suited up and in position in Hudson Bay.”

 

“Sedna Ten, ready up at the forest.”

 

“Sedna Fifteen, ready at the East District container maze.”

 

Sedna One cut back in. “Execute on my mark. Three...two...one…mark.”

 

There was a half minute of silence. Then: “Sedna Five checking in. Target Alpha is unconscious, Soul Gem safely separated. We’re swimming for exfil now.”

 

“Sedna Fifteen checking in. Target Gamma resisted arrest, and her Soul Gem was smashed during combat. Video evidence will be saved for internal review as per protocol.”

 

“Sedna Ten?” Mami asked. “Sedna Ten, status?”

 

Kana looked across the table at Mami, who returned the glance with a frigid glare. “Sedna Ten, respond.”

 

“Sedna Ten checking in,” the voice said, sounding slightly winded. “Soul Gem separated. Target Beta secured.”

 

“Sedna Team, all targets secure,” Mami said, her face remaining strictly impassive. “Proceed to exfil at the _Amundsen._ ” The Director flicked her fingers in the air, terminating the connection.

 

“Excellent work, Tomoe-san,” Homura said. “

 

Mami nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Thank you, Executive Akemi.”

 

**\---**

**2:41 PM**

 

Yuma arrived at Kyouko’s office ten minutes later, having stopped by her office momentarily to down the sandwich she had packed for herself.

 

“Look, Garrity, nothing has changed, okay?” Kyouko said, trying desperately to keep a veneer of politeness in her voice. Still, she tapped her finger to the contact-integrated sensor looped around her ear, switching the call to speaker. “The CAR is still on track to pass. The spending package I got into it for your district is still in the bill. How do you expect me to bend over backwards like this for you in the future if you won’t give me your vote at the end of the day?”

 

“That’s not what I’m hearing,” Henrietta said, rustling papers on her end of the communication. “Wersterung says they’re at 260 and rising.”

 

Kyouko rolled her eyes. “I can’t even _remember_ the last time Elise got a count right,” she snarled. “We were at 252 before, and Sayaka’s interview didn’t do her any favors with the African delegates. By my count we’re pushing 260, 270 now.”

 

“You already had all the African delegates,” Garrity said. “Most of them are with Sorciere Oblige, they were always going to vote for this. It’s your own party that you’ve lost. Elise told me she flipped Zhou Yi in China-”

 

“No she didn’t!” Kyouko roared. “Every single delegate out of China has been Coalition for the last 50 years! She’s _playing_ you, can’t you see that?”

 

“Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t,” Henrietta sighed. “But either way, I can’t vote for the CAR any more. Assume we’re all nos. If something else changes, well, maybe...but as it stands, it’s just the wrong time. I’ll call you back if the situation changes--”

 

“Mind if I put Yuma on speaker?” Kyouko asked. Yuma raised an eyebrow; after all, she was already on speaker. “I mean, I figure as long as you’re betraying the party, you may as well tell the Chief of Staff to her face.”

 

“Goodbye, Kyouko,” said the Texas representative. The line went dead.

 

“So you’ve lost Texas,” Yuma said. “And we lost Russian delegates as well. If we lost China as well...that’s not just bad luck with the news cycle, that’s a coup.”

 

“We didn’t lose China, Yuma,” Kyouko said firmly. “That’s a straight up lie. And I got Taggart and the rest of Chicago on board. Odette got Central Asia. Rika shamed all of India’s votes into the yes column. We have enough to win the vote, but you have to _trust me_.”

 

“Kill it,” Yuma said. “Send it back for another round of debate. We’ll live to fight another day.”

 

Kyouko sighed, looking out the window. Finally, she said, “Is that a direct order, Chitose-san?”

 

“Yes,” Yuma said. Kyouko flicked a memo into her contact screen and tapped out a few lines, before sending it to the offices of every Coalition representative.

 

“Thank you, Kyouko-chan,” Yuma said politely, turning to leave the room.

 

**\---**

**3:03 PM**

 

“Kuroi-san?” Martha asked. The Founder had returned to her office several minutes ago without saying a word, and had immediately began typing out a report with fervor sufficient to discourage any thoughts Martha might have had about attempting to disrupt her.

 

“Yes?” Kana replied a minute later.

 

“I just wanted to show you...what I found earlier,” Martha said.

 

“Make it fast,” Kana said. “I’m just typing out this report, and then I’m going home early tonight. Normally I’d stay later, but Yuma’s orders.”

 

“Well, I went back through all the files you gave me, plus some more I requisitioned from the Riyadh office. The Riyadh office’s own files say _completely_ different things from the central office’s copies of those files. For example, in the June 25th memo stored in the Riyadh office’s records, the office says it’s getting reports of increasing amounts of unrest in the streets in places like Dubai and Abu Dhabi, and requests advice and assistance from the central office in Kazamino. But in the central office’s copy of the _same_ memo, the Riyadh office says that the local situation is mostly normal, and only mentions a pair of magical girls conducting bandit raids out of the Empty Quarter.”

 

Kana looked up from her own contact feed. “What the--”

 

“It’s like that on every pair of memos I could find,” Martha said. “Every Riyadh memo to the central Soul Guard office dating back as far as March of last year doesn’t match the request filed in the official record in Kazamino. And there’s more. I repurposed one of the TCF AIs from economics to run a keyword search in both the Riyadh copies of the memos and the central Soul Guard copies of the memos, specifically looking for mentions of problems in UAE cities. Every single Riyadh copy mentioned increased scarcity of food and water for the lower classes as well as increased signs of impending unrest throughout the UAE-higher crime rates, larger numbers at anti-government protests, higher rates of police brutality, you know. Not a single Central Office copy did.”

 

“This goes back a whole year?” Kana snapped. “And it’s 100% pervasive? Every single memo from this field office fits this pattern?”

 

“Right,” Martha said. She stood up, pacing back and forth around the room.

 

“Did you mention this investigation to anyone at the central office?” Kana demanded. “Ask for help from anyone there?”

 

“I didn’t,” Martha said quickly. “You already had all the files from the central office. I just went on the Soul Guard internal website and got the email address for the Riyadh station chief, and then asked them to send me all memos sent to and received by the MSY central office over the past ten years.”

“Good,” Kana said. “Keep it that way. Yuma’s making me go home early, so go back to your regular job for the rest of the day. I’ll put in a formal request with Personnel to have you transferred to me permanently tomorrow morning. Until then, _don’t speak about this to anyone,_ understand?”

 

Martha gulped, then nodded.

 

**\---**

**4:01 PM**

 

“They killed the vote!” Kazahana shouted across the office. “The Coalition members are voting for more debate on the bill.”

 

Elise wiped her brow. “Jesus, we dodged a bullet there,” she said. “Kyouko or Yuma must have blinked. Maybe our vote base was stronger than we thought.”

 

Sayaka sighed. “Maybe it was,” she said. She looked up from the documents on her contacts, glancing at Elise. “Guess that’s it for now. Anything else on today’s docket?”

 

“Nearly end of business,” Elise said. “Unless you want to do some policy work on migration? But I can always farm that out to our staff.”

 

“Send everyone home,” Sayaka instructed. “We put in a good day’s work today. I’m gonna go pick up my daughter, but...if you need me, feel free to call me up. I’ll be there.”

 

“Got it,” Elise said.

 

\---

 

Kana pulled into her driveway, parking her car in the small house she owned in the southern Mitakihara suburbs. The weight of two bottles of finely aged sake hung from her hands.

 

“Ueda-kun!” she called out. “I’m home!” When no response came, she continued, “I’m really sorry about last night, but...I’ve got two bottles with me, and-”

 

Kana stopped short. A small note rested on her mahogany kitchen table.

 

 _Got called in by the office,_ Ueda had written. _Problem with an overseas customer in Europe. Will have to work late tonight._

 

Kana sighed, uncapping one of the bottles with her thumb and taking a long, deep drag. Slowly, she sat down on her couch and flipped open her work email.

 

\---

 

Shizuki Sayaka pressed a button on her car’s remote. On the passenger side, Sakura climbed into the car, tossing her duffel bag of dirty robes and armor into the back seat.

 

“Hey, Sakura,” Sayaka said cheerfully. “How was naginatajutsu today?”

 

“It was great,” Sakura said, wiping her still-sweaty forehead on her sleeve. “I landed a clean hit on one of the seniors today.”

 

“Nice job! So you’re really improving, then?” Sayaka replied, putting the car in gear. _I landed a few good hits of my own…if only by pure luck._

 

“Yep!”

 

\---

 

Martha stepped out of the elevator at the tenth floor, sparing a moment to look out at the cloudy skies dimly lit by the light of the moon. Her hand shook slightly as she reached into her purse and extracted Kyouko’s key, sliding it into the door’s scanner.

 

“Kyouko?” she called out, setting her purse down near the door. “Are you there?” A quick walk through the sparsely-furnished apartment turned up nothing.

 

 _Kyouko, where are you?_ She typed.

\---

 

“The CAR bill failed?” Homura asked. The sun had finally sank behind the Mitakihara skyline mere moments ago, but the city was no less bright, lit by the many hundreds of thousands of buildings stretching as far as she could see.

 

“Yes,” Yuma said. “It’s regrettable-just a victim of circumstance.”

 

Homura sighed, spinning her chair back around to face the rest of her office and leaning on it with both hands. The room was cold and featureless, lacking the elaborate furniture, family pictures, and policy books that had come to occupy the rest of the higher level staff’s workspaces. A simple desk carved from redwood, an ancient twenty-first century computer monitor for when she didn’t want to strain her thoroughly imperfect eyes staring through her contacts, and a single woefully inaccurate statue of _her_ at the far end of the room, commissioned with Homura’s own personal funds.

 

Homura closed her eyes in silence, head bowed in the general direction of the statue. Long accustomed to the Executive’s unusual behavior, Yuma waited silently.

 

“I feel like...I don’t know,” Homura said finally, her eyes tracing the marble outlines of the statue’s wings. “She hasn’t spoken to me in months, Yuma.”

 

“Maybe you’re finally moving past it,” Yuma said neutrally. “Facing reality.”

 

Homura let the implied slight against her sanity slide. As a Founder, she received deference from others as a matter of course; as the Executive, even more so. She needed at least one person close to her who considered her neither a friend nor a lodestar, who would tell her when they thought she was wrong and question her assumptions.

 

“My faculties are unchanged,” Homura said. “My faith in her is constant. I’ve done my best to do with the MSY what she would have wanted, but...she no longer speaks to me.”

 

“Perhaps your task is finished,” Yuma said.

 

Homura shook her head. “ _Our_ task is never finished.”

\---

 

_Kyouko, where are you?_

 

Kyouko sighed, turning away from the group of magical girls scattered across the roof in front of her. “One second, everyone. Sorry for bein’ a holdup.”

 

_Change of plans. Sorry I forgot to mention it to you. I’ll be back around 11, if you’re still up by then. I won’t be offended if you don’t wanna wait._

 

The Ancient disabled her contacts and turned back to the girls and women in front of her-MHD bureaucrats forever trapped behind desks, visiting delegates here for a vote or an in-person meeting, at least one former Soul Guard Task Force member.

 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Kyouko,” said the black-haired woman in front of her, who was twirling a matte-black tsukubo that was nearly invisible against the night sky. “Rough day today?”

 

“I need to let off some steam,” Kyouko admitted. “Miasma strong tonight?”

 

“Very,” the woman said.

 

Kyouko grinned. “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait on this chapter; things got delayed by a combination of a substantial rewrite halfway through the process and by my finals week. Hopefully I'll have ample free time to work on this more over winter break and get the next chapter out faster.


	3. Coalition Building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martha sits for a Soul Guard background check. Sayaka and Homura look for new additions to their teams. With Yuma's help, Kyouko finds a new way to let off some steam.

_To: Kalakaua, Iwalani, <49 undisclosed recipients> _

_Cc: <5 undisclosed> _

_From: Monroe, Miyu_

_Subject: Training Schedule and Reminders_

_Attached: R3_schedule_2159.pdfx, Rotation_Reassignment_Request.pdfx_

 

_Good morning! I hope you’ve all enjoyed your night on the town, and that all of you are relatively functional this morning._

 

_Today, we’re getting back to work. Fireteam Maui and Fireteam Pele will be conducting six hours a day of organized training at the Mitakihara HQ, starting at 0800 hours each morning; Support Groups and the Development Group will meet at SGHQ in Kazamino at the same time. All operatives are expected to supplement team training with individual training as necessary to maintain competence in all fields relevant to their role, for a total of at least eight hours of approved training per day._

 

_Every Saturday morning, we will run a training operation at MSY headquarters. All operatives are expected to attend. One fireteam and two support groups will attempt to complete the objective, while the other fireteam and remaining support groups will serve as the OpFor. To better simulate a realistic asymmetric mission environment, briefings for these missions will be released to the OpFor on Wednesdays and to the full unit on Fridays. As in previous RRR training missions, the losing team will be present for debriefing and performance analysis on Sunday mornings._

 

_Development Group and Support Group operatives who are interested in promotion to Fireteam or reassignment to another Task Force should submit applications to me by the end of the week. Any operatives who would like to rotate out of active duty should inform me of their intent to do so as soon as possible. Undue delays in rotation requests can result in insufficient training time for replacement recruits, weakening the unit as a whole._

 

_Good hunting,_

_Miyu Monroe_

 

-email sent from Task Force Cook Commander Miyu Monroe to the members of said task force, dated Monday, July 21 2159. Illegally leaked to the MSY population on January 15, 2164 as part of a larger electronic communications hack carried out by supporters of [REDACTED].

 

* * *

 

**Monday, July 21**

**7:00 AM**

 

“G-good morning,” Martha said awkwardly, hands folded demurely in front of her. “Um...my name is Martha Dahlgren. I...think I have a security clearance interview for this morning?”

 

The Japanese woman in front of her flicked something unreadable back and forth on her contacts, clearly checking Martha’s credentials. Finally, she said, “Yes, we have you scheduled. Soul Gem, please.”

 

“What do you need my gem for?” Martha asked.

 

“We use Soul Gem spectrometry to secure access to classified information,” the woman said. “Every magical girl has a unique gem color, sigil, and pulse frequency. If you’re approved for security clearance, you’ll be able to place your gem into any secure terminal’s scanner and be granted access to files you’re cleared for.”

 

“I can’t just use my contacts?” Martha asked, offering her moss-colored Soul Gem anyways. The woman took the gem, slid open a slot in the desk, and dropped the gem in.

 

“Contacts aren’t secure,” the woman said. “Neither, for that matter, are implants. You don’t have those, do you?”

 

“I don’t,” Martha confirmed.

 

“It’s not necessarily a problem if you do,” the woman continued. “But you’d have to consent to us making some special code injections into them.”

 

“No need for that,” Martha said. A moment later, the gem popped out of the slot, and Martha claimed it back.

 

“That was just us getting a baseline,” the woman explained. “You’ll be right back there,” she pointed. “Take the stairs up two flights, turn right, and then it’ll be the third door on the left.

 

“Got it,” Martha said. She strode across the tile floor, eyes drawn around the room to the small plaster busts of the Soul Guard’s various directors. Each bust had a small plaque beneath it, stating simply the last name of the director-Tomoe, Kuroi, Chitose, Fletcher--

 

 _Fletcher?_ Martha asked herself. _Who the hell is Fletcher?_

 

“The only non-Japanese Soul Guard director in the organization’s history,” the woman at the desk answered. Martha spun around, glaring. “She was the first Soul Guard Director following the SMC/MSY merger. Served a standard ten year term. But she said she hated the job, so she rotated back to active duty in Operations as soon as she got the chance.”

 

“I didn’t give you permission to look around in my head!” Martha protested. “You can’t just--”

 

“It’s my job,” the woman said. “Everyone in Security is allowed to take a dive inside your head whenever they want. You’d better get used to it.”

 

Martha sighed and kept walking. She quickly found the door she was looking for, third on the left on the right side of the third floor, and walked in. The room in front of her was lined on either side with couches, one of which was occupied by a transformed brown-haired girl dressed as a traditional Japanese shrine maiden and a plainly dressed older woman who rested a clipboard and pen upon her crossed legs. In between the two couches, a plain coffee table hosted a platter of bagels and donuts, a pot of tea, and an ominous looking array of cameras and microphones all pointed towards the opposite couch.

 

“Good morning, Martha,” the older woman said, her English tinged with an unmistakable Scottish accent. “My name is Amanda MacLeod, and this is my assistant, Nanami Ruiko.”

 

“I was expecting Japanese,” Martha said as she sat down.

 

“When possible, we prefer to conduct these interviews in the subject’s native tongue,” Amanda said, leaning forward and pouring herself a cup of tea. “Our studies shows it makes the subject more comfortable. Is it working?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Martha confessed. “The cameras aren’t helping.”

 

“The cameras are necessary, regrettably,” Amanda said. “But anyways, feel free to help yourself to some refreshments, whatever you like, while I explain how all of this is going to work.”

 

“First and foremost, the goal of this interview is to determine whether you can be trusted with the MSY’s deepest secrets. Of course, many of these questions will be about things we already know. You are expected to respond truthfully to all questions, no matter how personal or how embarrassing the answers might be. A single lie that is not immediately corrected will result in immediate rejection of your clearance request, and possible disciplinary action. Do you understand?”

 

“I understand,” Martha said.

 

“The purpose of this examination is not only to determine your trustworthiness, but also to determine what aspects of your background or personality can be used as leverage against you. The questions will attempt to determine what things are stressful for you to think about or are most likely to cloud your judgment. Your responses will be recorded in your file, the contents of which you may review should you pass this exam. Do you understand everything I have told you?

 

Martha hesitated for a moment. “I do,” she said.

 

“Alright,” Amanda said. “Then we’ll begin whenever you’re ready,” she said. “If you would like to cancel the examination, this is your last chance to leave. From here on, anything we learn will go in a permanent Soul Guard file, even if you terminate questioning. Do you agree to these terms?”

 

“I agree,” Martha said quietly. Slowly, she reached down to the table and slid the pulse monitoring clip onto her left index finger. Amanda glanced at the readout, then flicked a few fingers.

 

The camera on the coffee table began to blink.

 

“We’ll begin with the basics, then,” Amanda said. “What is your full legal name?”

 

“Martha Ellen Dahlgren,” Martha said.

 

“Where were you born?”

 

“Chicago.”

 

“Did you make your contract there?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How old were you when you contracted?

 

“Sixteen.”

 

“And how old are you now?”

 

“Twenty-four,” Martha said with a smile. The MSY intern waited patiently as Amanda flipped through a few sheets on her contacts.

 

“What’s your favorite color?” Amanda asked after a few moments.

 

“My favorite color?” Martha asked quizzically. “Lime green.”

 

“Your favorite book?”

 

“Fiction or nonfiction?”

 

Amanda blinked twice, her eyes momentarily losing focus as she looked up the relevant item in her contacts. “Let’s go with fiction for now.”

 

“ _Catch-22_ ,” Martha said, after thinking for a moment.

 

Amanda raised an eyebrow, but pressed onwards. “Who’s your favorite character, and why?”

 

\---

 

**7:35 AM**

 

“Are you still sure this is a good idea, Elise?” Sayaka said, facing backward in Zhou Zhi Yi’s personal limousine. Across from Sayaka, her speechwriter Kazahana sat, legs crossed, dutifully typing away on her contacts. While they both had access to Elise’s video feed, Kazahana rarely responded, focused on some speech draft or another. “It’s not too late for us to head back to the airport.”

 

“It’s a political necessity,” Elise insisted. “Every little bit of support counts. Zhou Zhi Yi could be another vote on the Leadership Committee for us, and she’ll bring ten to fifteen Rules Committee seats with her. We’ve been over this all before.”

 

“Yeah, we have,” Sayaka agreed. “So let’s talk the stuff we’re putting on the table. Kazahana, you did the pregame with Zhou’s communications person, right?”

 

“Right,” Kazahana said. It was common practice for staffers to meet several days before any meeting of their superiors, to determine initial boundaries for what was being discussed and what each side was potentially willing to concede. Thirty minutes of a mid-level assistant’s time for each side could potentially save hours of fruitless negotiation. “Zhi Yi’s going to ask for several subcommittee chairmanships for her people, of course, as well as increased funding for MSY Science, which, of course, she wants to head herself in a Mahoutai administration.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Sayaka said immediately. “You told her that was a dealbreaker, right, Hana? I’m not going to give her a blank check to do whatever she wants with no oversight.”

 

“You’ll have to give way somewhere else, then,” Elise said. “What kind of language is she asking for?”

 

“She wants us to back educational programs on the benefits on neural implants alongside funding to develop specialized implants for magical girls. Also wants us to support increased MSY grants for higher education, specifically in STEM fields, although they didn’t consider it a strong policy priority. ”

 

Slowly, the limousine pulled to a stop, gliding into the parking zone to the right of the road. Sayaka glanced out the window, her agile mind instinctively processing the Japanese meanings of the Chinese characters that lined the windows and doors around them. “None of that seems too weird,” she said. “I don’t think we’ll have too many problems with the language.”

 

“The thing you should be trying to figure out is whether Zhi Yi has a plan to present her...past work in a politically palatable way,” Elise says. “We need to be able to sell her as an iconoclast rather than a nutjob. A brilliant but misunderstood scientist who was exiled from the MSY establishment for speaking out against it, that sort of thing. The narrative will be important to acquiring her supporters without losing our existing support.”

 

“I trust you and Hana will be able to handle the narrative,” Sayaka said. Hana’s eyes darted nearly imperceptibly to the side, still typing away. “I just want to talk shop with her. Get an idea for what our working relationship will be like. That’s just as important to me as the policy or the language.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Elise shrugged. “But I shouldn’t have to tell you that this is extremely important for our future plans. It’ll eventually get out that we came out here, and we’ll take political blowback for even considering it unless we can sell her story. Just by flying out here, we’ve got skin in the game.”

 

“I’ve got it,” Sayaka said. “We’re here, so I’m gonna let you go.”

 

“Sure,” Elise said. “Call me after you’ve talked for a bit and we’ll go over the fine print.”

 

“Alright,” Sayaka said, terminating the call.

 

Kazahana nodded towards the window. “That’s Zhi Yi’s second,” she said. “It’s our stop, apparently.”

 

The woman outside opened the door. “Welcome to Tianjin,” she said. “I’m Fa Lijang. You’re here to see Dr. Zhou, correct?”

 

“Yes,” Kazahana said diplomatically.

 

“I’ll take you upstairs, then.”

\---

 

**8:35 AM**

 

“That’s it for now, everyone,” Yuma said, clapping her hands. Around the small table in Yuma’s office, Kyouko, Odette, Kana, and Rika stood up, scooping up donuts and cups of coffee as they left. “Kana, come and get me if there’s any new developments in Siberia. Oh, and Kyouko—stick around for a moment.”

 

Kyouko turned around, leaning on a chair back with both hands as Yuma swept up a few crumbs off the table. “If this is about last week, I-”

 

“It’s in the past,” Yuma said, her tone of voice brooking no dissent. “I actually just wanted to talk to you about you signing up for the inservice self defense course.”

 

“You knew about that?” Kyouko asked

 

“All supervisors have to personally approve their subordinates’ request for inservice time off,” Yuma said. “Of course I knew.”

 

“You signed off on it, though,” Kyouko pointed out.

 

“I did, because I know you’ve got a slower day today, and I know we have our yearly hunts coming up eventually,” Yuma said. “But _really,_ Kyouko? That class is for twenty-five year old interns fresh out of college, and old grannies who haven’t fought in years, not someone like you who’s been hunting wraiths forever. You show up there and you’ll wipe the floor with everyone, not to mention be a huge distraction for everyone there.”

 

“So what do you want me to do instead?” Kyouko asked.

 

“I had the Soul Guard send someone over,” Yuma said.

 

“Aww, come on!” Kyouko complained. “I _wrote_ the Soul Guard manual on frontline combat back in the day. You can’t sign me up for some mid-level Soul Guard class either, you know.”

 

“First of all, that manual’s been obsolete since 2085, and the replacement’s been obsolete since 2113,” Yuma pointed out. “Second of all, I was thinking sparring partners instead of classes. There’s a Task Force in town for the next few months. If I recall correctly, it’s Task Force Cook, and they’re in for triple R.”

 

Kyouko nodded. It was necessary for even the most veteran Soul Guard Task Forces to return to base every now and then to give their operatives time to recharge, expand their power portfolios, and recruit new members. Cook’s American leader had taken to using the mnemonic Relaxation, Retraining, Recruitment for her team’s off-duty time, and it had officially stuck sometime in the 2120s.

 

“I’ve got someone lined up from Cook to train with you, if you want. She’s a frontliner, spear fighter as well. No clones unfortunately, but she should be more than a match for you.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds--”

 

“Good. Now go do your job,” Yuma said, nudging Kyouko towards the door. “I’ve gotta talk to Homura.”

 

Yuma sighed as she closed the door behind Kyouko. When she was focused on a cause or especially an opponent she was passionate about, Kyouko was a force of nature. In the blink of an eye, she could turn up her famous charisma to coax and cajole wavering votes across the line, or unleash an equally fierce temper to whip committee members into shape. Politically speaking, Kyouko was the administration’s prize racehorse, and as Kyouko’s closest friend on the staff, it fell to Yuma to keep her well groomed and fed. She was responsible for reading Kyouko’s mood and knowing when her deputy needed encouragement and support, when she needed a stern hand on the reins, and when and how to whip Kyouko into a frenzy.

 

 _It’s almost as exhausting as my real job_ , she said, stepping into Homura’s office.

 

“Did you take my advice?” Homura asked. “About giving Kyouko a chance to let off some steam?”

 

“I did,” Yuma nodded. “And she definitely needed it. Hopefully some time in the ring with TF Cook will light her fire again.”

 

“Good,” Homura agreed. “Everything going fine on the lower decks?”

 

“Slow day today,” Yuma said. “Nothing huge to report, except for one thing.”

 

Homura frowned. “What’s that?”

 

“Clarisse wants a meeting.”

 

“I’m always glad to talk to Clarisse,” Homura said, leaning heavily for support on her desk. The bicentennial Dutch historian had a magically granted knack for _knowing_ when something important was about to happen, and putting herself right at the center of whatever it was. Over the years, Clarisse had applied her unique talents to historical writing, photography, side work with at least two mundane intelligence agencies, and her current employment as a job as a foreign correspondent with the New York Times.  “After all, nothing bad has ever happened before when Clarisse wanted to meet with us.”

 

“I think that thing in the ‘80s with the two prostitutes and the hand grenades wasn’t really her fault,” Yuma deadpanned. “They didn’t even know you were magical.”

 

“What does she want?” Homura asked, more seriously now.

 

“It’s Clarisse. You won’t know what until she opens the door.” Yuma paused. “You can decline the meeting if you want, but given what happened the last time we passed, I think it’s better we find out from the source.”

 

“I’ll take the meeting,” Homura said. “When is she free?”

 

“She’s on layover for a few hours next week,” Yuma said. “I’ll call her and have her come over.”

 

“Good,” Homura said. “You’re not pushing anyone back to let her meet with me, right?” she asked.

 

“Just the intelligence briefing that day,” Yuma shrugged. “But I’ll have that sent to your contacts.”

 

“What else?” Homura asked.

 

“Word from my mid-level contacts in the Soul Guard is that a lot of the foreigners in the Soul Guard are unhappy with the continuous Japanese leadership,” Yuma said.

 

“Yeah, Mami told me that herself a while ago,” Homura said. “Didn’t make much of it. What changed?”

 

“Nothing really,” Yuma said. “But a good way for us to do something about it would be for us to choose a non-Japanese Soul Guard Director to replace Mami when her term ends next year. Preferably from outside our original sphere of influence entirely.”

 

Homura frowned. “You know Soul Guard was always one of the positions I wanted to keep internal, to just us and the people we trust. Fletcher was a one-time deal.”

 

“Seeing as Fletcher said that she has no intention of taking the job again if it’s offered, I think she noticed she wasn’t wanted,” Yuma said. “But in any case, I didn’t just come up here with empty words.” The Chief of Staff reached up to her temples, and flicked forward with two fingers; a file immediately began downloading to Homura’s contacts. “Over the past few weeks, I’ve been putting together a shortlist of outside replacements for your consideration.”

 

Homura opened the document, and quickly scanned through the table of contents. _Wanda Meckes, chief of the Warsaw regional office. Khalifa Ross, ranking Coalition member on the Soul Guard Oversight subcommittee. Miyu Monroe, current Commander, SGTF Cook--_

 

The Executive sighed. “And now I know why you brought this up today, in particular. You want me to talk to Monroe.” She paused, scratching her chin. “She’s an American with a Japanese first name. Isn’t that counterproductive?”

 

Yuma shook her head. “Monroe’s half Japanese by birth, which’ll keep the traditionalists happy. And we’ll play up her time outside the MSY. She’d been a magical girl for decades already prior to first contact with her group in Portland. Contracted in the late 2030s, according to her initial background check.”

 

“Do we have any idea what changes she’ll want to make, policy wise?” Homura asked. “I was just hoping to maintain the status quo. I wanted to bring Kana back.”

 

“Not much,” Yuma said. “She’s practically silent on the MSY forums and internal networks. A consummate professional, from the former TF Cook members I was able to reach. According to them, she leans Sorciere but hardly mentions it in the presence of subordinates.”

 

“Fair enough,” Homura shrugged. “Can you schedule her for later today?”

 

“Certainly,” Yuma agreed. “I’ll have her come up before Economy.”

 

\---

 

**8:41 AM**

 

Sayaka swirled her tea around in its ornamented cup with a short stirring stick, watching the liquid shudder in time with her circling.

 

“Our assistants have gone over the details already,” Sayaka said diplomatically, setting down her cup and sitting back, looking over at the black-haired Ancient in the floral-patterned couch across from her. Zhou Zhi Yi took a long drag of her own tea, her wire-rimmed bifocals and smoothly flowing clothing making her look for all the world like an elderly Chinese grandmother. “So there shouldn’t be too much to discuss on the political side, but…”

 

“You have reservations,” Zhi Yi finished, tapping her aluminum-tipped cane on the floor at her feet.

 

“I do,” Sayaka said. “Your scientific ideas are...not widely accepted among the magical population. If an alliance between us is to succeed, you and your immediate allies will need to stay quiet for the meantime, at least until we’re in a position to win power.”

 

Zhi Yi shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I understand your concerns, but I don’t agree. Once we announce our alliance, you’ll be battered by my scientific history either way-such is the way of our _tolerant_ administration. If we don’t fight for genome sequencing and implants, they’ll never become a reality.”

 

Sayaka frowned. “Your ideas go far beyond ‘genome sequencing’. You’re on record supporting all kinds of unethical research. Human cloning. Condition manipulation in mundane countries to optimize grief cube output. These ideas aren’t acceptable to-”

 

“I could care less what uneducated, Bible-thumping American brats think of my ideas,” Zhi Yi snapped. “Their views on bioethics are uninformed and without nuance. They declare all genetic research and modification to be inherently dangerous without any consideration of its potential benefits.”

 

Sayaka rolled her eyes. “Sure, but I’m neither uneducated nor American, so how about you lay those benefits out for me?”

 

Zhi Yi sighed. “Your education isn’t scientific. I can walk you through the broad strokes of the things I want and why I want them, but you’ll have to leave writing the specifications and grants to me or one of my people.”

 

“Fine,” Sayaka said. “Just tell me what it is, why it benefits the MSY, and why you want to do it. And make it quick. I need to be back in Mitakihara to pick up my kid after school.”

 

\---

 

**8:53 AM**

 

“I want to discuss your original wish for a few moments. Would you repeat that wish, for the record?”

 

Martha hesitated for a moment. Her hands clenched slightly in her lap, before she said, “I wanted to--”

 

“Just the exact words, for now,” Amanda said. “Wording can be important, after all.”

 

Martha shook her head. “I’m sorry, it was a while back now, so...it’s a bit hard to remember.”

 

“Do the best you can,” Amanda said.

 

“‘I wish…” Martha stumbled. “I wish I could be a part of something bigger than myself.”

 

“What was in your head, when you made that wish?” Amanda asked. “What did you really want?”

 

Martha blinked. “Um...what do you mean?”

 

“Many girls we’ve met wish for something indirect,” Nanami said. “For example, a close friend of mine wished to look prettier, not because she particularly cared about her looks, but because she thought she needed to be prettier to attract a boy she was interested in.”

 

Amanda nodded, turning back to Martha. “Let me rephrase-Why did you make that wish, in particular?”

 

“I was...I was feeling like my life wasn’t going anywhere,” Martha said. “Like I was just going through the motions, just doing things because people told me to or because it might be good for me. Not because I wanted to do things, or because I believed in the things I was doing.”

 

“So in a sense, you were wishing for a purpose?” Amanda asked.

 

“You could put it that way,” Martha agreed.

 

“Would you mind describing your costume for me?” Amanda asked. “Or you can transform, if you like.”

 

“Why is that important?” Martha complained.

 

“Mental Health Division research indicates that a magical girl’s transformed appearance represents her idealized self-conception; that is, your outfit is designed subconsciously based on how you see yourself, and how you want the world to see you,” Amanda said.

 

“Okay…,” Martha muttered, standing up in place. She flashed white for an instant, donning a simple sleeveless white dress and layered knee-length skirts of matching white fabric and brown leather. The same leather sheathed her arms and legs, forming protective thigh-high boots and elbow-length fingerless gloves. Just above Martha’s hips, a belt of gears whirred and clicked together, forming two holstered clockwork pistols with silver trim identical to Martha’s hair. Finally, a pair of goggles formed on Martha’s forehead, with her silver soul gem mounted on the left side of their frame.

 

Amanda looked Martha over briefly, then motioned Martha to detransform. “And your abilities?” Amanda asked.

 

Martha sighed. She raised her hand slowly, where a small, interconnected assortment of three bevel gears appeared in the air. “I can...conjure gears, either individually or in arrangements I’ve practiced. Larger gears cost me more magic, but I can use them as improvised barriers, platforms, or even weapons.”

 

**8:57 AM**

 

“We’ve done studies on all the other parts of what makes magical girls have enough ‘potential’ to contract, according to the Incubators.” Zhi Yi continued. “Socioeconomic status is a major factor. As I’m sure you’re aware, the groups offered the most contracts are the dispossessed, the marginalized, and the hyperclass. Interpersonal proximity to notable business or political figures matters as well.”

 

“Degrees of separation?” Sayaka asked.

 

“Precisely,” Zhi Yi nodded. “Some of the most recent studies also indicate potential second-order effects; girls who are close friends with already-contracted magical girls have an increased probability of being offered a contract, even if they were unaware of their friend’s magical abilities.”

 

“Makes sense,” Sayaka nodded.

 

“Even with those factors accounted for, though, only around half of the variation in contract offers is explained. Part of this is that we have to rely on the Incubators to inform us of new contracts, and the Incubators seldom inform us of people whose potential is too low. But another part is that the current administration is simply unwilling to investigate the remaining potential factors.”

 

“What factors are those?”

 

“Genetic factors,” Zhi Yi said. “We know, thanks to the _experiments_ of yourself, Kuroi Kana, the Francois family, and others that magical potential cannot be passed with 100% certainty from mother to daughter. But we also know that it has occured, and with the small sample size we have we can’t confirm more.”

 

“So it’s not a dominant gene,” Sayaka said, “but it could still be--”

 

“That’s an oversimplification,” Zhi Yi said. “Since you brought it up, I doubt that there is any single gene that raises magical potential. It could be multiple genes, all contributing different ‘amounts’ of magical potential. It could be certain genes interacting with other known environmental elements to raise magical potential. It could be an organelle like a chloroplast. I don’t know what the answer is for sure, but I’d like to find out.”

 

“So you want to sequence our genomes, then,” Sayaka realized.

 

“Precisely,” Zhi Yi confirmed. “I want to take DNA swabs and skin samples from all of the MSY membership to try to determine if magical potential has a genetic or cellular component. We can reference those genes against standard newborn genetic tests performed by most industrialized nations to identify and monitor individuals with a high contract chance from birth. And perhaps…” Zhi Yi scratched her chin, looking pointedly at Sayaka. “Perhaps we could modify our own offspring to predispose them to contracting potential, if we so chose. Both of us would give anything for our daughters to have the same chances we did, wouldn’t we?”

 

“She should choose it,” Sayaka said quickly. Nearly imperceptibly, her hands twitched in her lap. “It shouldn’t be...forced on her through genetic modification.”

 

“Are you talking about your youngest daughter, Sakura?” Zhi Yi said, watching Sayaka’s face flash in surprise. “Oh, don’t worry, this type of genetic modification would only be viable prior to fertilization; it wouldn’t work on fully formed human beings. And she would still be able to choose whether to contract or not, when the time came. But I doubt she would say no. You and I could never have made that choice, could we?”

 

\---

 

**9:13 AM**

 

“You said she was coming up soon?” Homura said, glancing at the clock ticking by in the upper right of her vision.”

 

“She said she was riding over here with the rest of TF Cook,” Yuma said.

 

“Aren’t they taking time off?” Homura asked. The Executive crossed her legs and leaned back, stretching her arms.

 

Yuma shook her head. “When they’re ‘off duty’, they actually work more. Training eight hours a day, every day, practicing their hand to hand, their shooting, their tactics. If there’s no organized group activity that day, they work solo on improving their power range, learning new tricks. Monroe-san probably wants to get them started for the day before she arrives.”

 

There was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Yuma called.

 

Miyu Monroe pulled the door open and stepped inside, brushing her navy-blue hair backwards over her shoulders. Even in the flat-footed dress shoes she wore, she stood at least an inch taller than Homura, mostly from her stockinged, gazelle-like legs. Her white blouse and knee-length dark skirt would have made her look all the world like another midlevel staffer but for the pistol strapped to her right thigh underneath her skirt and the hint of black skintight lycra that peeked out from underneath her shirt when she bowed. “Madam Executive, Chitose-san,” she said politely, her Japanese clipped and distinctly American-accented. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“Please, sit,” Yuma said, patting the couch. “I hope your morning has been...uneventful.”

 

“Delightfully boring,” Miyu said. “I was on my way to training with the team when you called.” She frowned briefly, looking at something in her contacts. “Well, most of the team...it seems you’ve called away a member of my team for a tutoring session. Is that what you’ve asked me here about?”

 

“Straight to business, then,” Homura said. “We’ve been...very impressed with your record as Commander, Monroe-san.”

 

“Your casualty statistics are well below the expected value, given your larger than average number of missions,” Yuma continued. “And the operatives you’ve trained that have transferred to other units are very well regarded.”

 

Miyu held up a hand, stopping Yuma. “I appreciate your support, but the casualty figures and mission counts don’t tell the whole story.”

 

“Could you clarify, then?” Homura asked.

 

“Cook does a lot of missions. But most of them are simple trafficking interdiction. Drop in a mile out after nightfall, scubajet to target, breach and clear. On an op like that we’ve got twelve operators with submachine guns, enhanced physicals, and magic versus four or five gangbangers with nine mils.” Miyu shook her head slowly. “Some of the squads with more casualties per mission also have much more difficult mission profiles. Aurora’s taken on the Canadian Army at least twice in the past decade, lost two operators in a shootout with JTF2 last year. Zulu spends half their time tracking rogue magical girls through the jungle in the Congo. As we speak, Shackleton is 30 miles inland in Antarctica, chasing two girls who kidnapped a prospector they didn’t like.”

 

Homura nodded. None of this was new to her. Not all of Shackleton was deployed for the mission itself, of course, but the materiel support required for even a short expedition into the Antarctic tundra was massive. Only four operators were actually deployed for the chase itself; five teams of two were busy placing and securing supply drops along the expected routes in and out of the interior tundra, while the other half of Shackleton remained on call at a hidden MSY complex on South Georgia Island.

 

“We try to provide additional resources to teams that are in need of them, but we get very few requests,” Homura said.

 

“We’re trained to make do,” Miyu said. “No matter what, we have to get the job done. Sooner or later, everyone moves up the chain-operatives become fireteam leaders, fireteam leaders take over a Task Force. It’s ingrained in us to find a way to make do, so when we take command, we don’t ask for help, because it’s not what we were taught. It’s not who we _are_.”

 

Yuma and Homura paused, glancing at each other. Finally, Yuma said, “How’d you like to reallocate those resources yourself?”

 

Miyu tilted her head slightly. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

 

Homura locked in on Miyu. “We’re considering you for appointment as the next Soul Guard Director.”

 

Miyu barely had time to process Homura’s words before the door swung open. Odette Francois leaned around the door, looking inside. “You have time for Economy?”

 

“Yes, come in,” Yuma said. She nodded to Miyu. “Would you mind excusing us momentarily? You can use my office.”

\---

 

**9:22 AM**

 

“Alright, next round,” Amanda said. “Your employment history. We’ll start with most recent. What’s your current job title inside the MSY?”

 

“Actuarial Policy Intern,” Martha shrugged. “But if I complete this interview, I’ll apparently be moving up to Special Assistant.”

 

“Fair enough,” Amanda shrugged. “What are the duties of your current position, as you understand them?”

 

“I examine large amounts of data provided by the MHD on grief cube collection and consumption and conduct studies on the data set as proposed by my superiors,” Martha shrugged. “I circulate the results of my analysis internally, and my supervisors consider my recommendations when crafting policy. There are several other interns who do the same work I do, but on different subjects.”

 

“For my benefit, what’s your particular specialty?”

 

Martha shrugged. “Most recently, my work has been attempting to update the MSY’s model of wraith prediction. I’ve been attempting to create a model to predict the frequency and magnitude of wraith appearances as a function of innumerable societal factors.”

 

“Have you ever received a formal reprimand for insubordination?”  

 

“That should be in my file,” Martha said. Amanda frowned. “But the answer is no.”

 

“Have you ever been the subject of a human resources complaint or grievance, as far as you know?”

 

“No,” Martha said.

 

“Have you ever received money, gifts, or other compensation in exchange for special treatment or access?”

 

“Nobody bribes interns,” Martha protested.

 

“Answer the question.”

 

“No, then,” Martha clarified.

 

“Have you ever attempted to overthrow either the MSY or a mundane government?”

 

“Do people really ever answer yes to that question?” Martha asked. Nanami giggled slightly.  Amanda’s lips stayed sealed, but a quick gesture of her eyes signaled Martha to continue. “Yes.”

 

Nanami’s giggles turned into one outright laugh, but Amanda merely raised an eyebrow. “Which government?”

 

“The government of the State of Illinois, back in the US,” Martha said.

 

“Can you explain the circumstances under which you aided the overthrow of a duly elected government?” Amanda asked.

 

“It was back during the winter of ‘52,” Martha recalled briefly. “Exit polls for the state gubernatorial election had the National Workers’ Party up by 7% of the vote, but the Freedom Party ‘won’ by 5%. They struck down millions of votes from the Chicago area under the ‘Illinois Voter Education Act’.”

 

Amanda smiled briefly. “Let the transcript reflect that the interviewee made ‘air quotes’ with her hands, indicating that she did not believe the official account of events.” She paused briefly. “And you attempted to overthrow the governor, then?”

 

Martha nodded. “I did. I was at the University of Chicago at the time, and me and the rest of the people at the school hopped in whatever cars we could find and borrow, grabbed masks, and attempted to storm the governor’s mansion.”

 

“What happened?” Amanda said.

 

“It’s all part of the historical record,” Martha said. “We got stopped by security at the outer fence and turned away.”

 

“So you didn’t try very hard,” Amanda said. “You didn’t employ magic.”

 

Martha shook her head. “I was the only magical girl there-I didn’t want to reveal myself. And anyways, even if we had made it through and driven the governor way out into the Iowan desert, that still wouldn’t have changed anything.”

 

\---

 

**9:25 AM**

 

“Sakura Kyouko?” the woman at the desk said. “Would you transform for me, please? You probably know the drill.” Kyouko sighed, donning her magic-famous red dress and black tights in a flash of crimson light. The attendant reached forward, plucking Kyouko’s gem from her collarbone and dropping it into a tungsten-steel receptacle, before replacing it with an oblong shock sticker. “Sticker range is from red to black. That sticker turns black, it means your gem would have smashed in real life.”

 

“This is full contact, then?” Kyouko asked.

 

The attendant shrugged. “Whatever you two agree upon. It’s a private session. We’ve got healers standing by for both of you, so don’t be afraid to go all out.

 

“Got it…” Kyouko muttered. She took the gem receptacle and stepped past the attendant, walking into the arena.

 

The massive room she entered felt as if it was impossibly large for the underground space it occupied, stretching at least seventy-five meters into the distance on all three sides. Around Kyouko was a ‘rooftop’ situated above a five meter drop to a darkened cable space below; similar ‘rooftops’ lined the room from wall to wall, at varying heights, sizes, and gaps between them. Above and below this room, Kyouko knew, there were at least five more live fire training arenas, including an aquatic training area the size of a small destroyer and a fan-powered airborne arena, complete with random cloud generation.

 

Kyouko hopped gently from rooftop to rooftop towards the largest building, in the center of the room. There, a tall girl with mocha-colored skin and flowing brown hair sat next to the gem containment unit, bending forwards and easily wrapping her fingers over her toes and down to the balls of her feet.

 

“Morning, Miss Sakura,” the woman said in crisp english, extending a hand. “Iwalani Kalākaua, Task Force Cook.”

 

Kyouko scratched her head. “Is there...something else I can call you?”

 

“‘Lani’ is fine,” Iwalani said. She took the soul gem containment box from Kyouko, setting it next to her own in the console’s cabinet and pressing a button. Both containers slowly withdrew into the building, vanishing into what Kyouko knew was a massive steel and concrete vault meant to protect them from the immense destructive feats magical girls were known to be capable of. “Or you can call me ‘Kapu’, like the rest of the team does.”

 

“How long since you left the Task Force?” Kyouko asked.

 

“You never really _leave_ a Task Force. There’s not enough quality people around. You just...rotate out. And then you rotate back in.” Iwalani clarified. She stood up, brushing gravel from her jean shorts. “We going all out, or just touch?”

 

“All out,” Kyouko said.

 

“Good,” Iwalani nodded. She transformed into her own costume, a woven green skirt and cutoff combo that left her midriff bare to the cool air of the training room. A golden floor-length cape swathed her shoulders and back, while a loose flowery necklace hung in front of her, a shock sticker where the gem obviously would have been set. In Iwalani’s hands, a golden spear and shield appeared. “Because if someone attacks you for real, there won’t be any holding back. That’s what we’re practicing for, right?”

 

Kyouko grinned, conjuring her own flexible spear into her right hand and giving it a self indulgent coil or two. She stepped back, slowly circling around the edge of the roof as Iwalani twirled her spear in her left hand.

 

Then, like a cobra, she struck.

 

\---

 

**9:31 AM**

 

“How’s it going in there?” Kazahana asked.

 

Zhi Yi had excused herself to check on one of her ‘thoroughly unoffensive’ experiments, leaving Sayaka to process the morning view from Zhi Yi’s balcony in the Binhai district of Tianjin. The morning sun glittered across the solar multipanels and vast oceans alike, creating the illusion of a shimmering layer of glass separating the streets of the city and the roofs of the skyscrapers.

 

“She’s as...questionable...as ever, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Sayaka said. Idly, she flipped to another tab in her contacts and scrolled through several emails from minor members of the Mahoutai bench. A request for staffer loan granted, some campaign funds disbursed. “At least she managed to hold off on her...less acceptable opinions on the nature of magic. We spent the past hour going over genetic sequencing for magical girls. We were just digging into specialized magical girl implants when she left.”

 

Kazahana said nothing, buried in her own contacts with her head tipped slightly down.

 

“What do you think?” Sayaka asked. Idly, she raised her right hand, watching a pigeon fly by and land on the railing next to her. With a tiny hop, it landed on her arm, where it pecked twice at her fingers before flying away.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Kazahana said demurely. “I’m here to support you, whatever policies you choose to support.”

 

“It matters to me,” Sayaka said, turning around and leaning against the glass railing with both arms. Kazahana nodded, still tapping her thumbs rapidly against the flanges of her hands with her palms facing upwards. The idiosyncratic, implant-powered typing style was less ergonomically sound under normal circumstances, but was preferred by some staffers who were frequently on the move, even within mundane governments.

 

Finally, Kazahana said, “In the weeks leading up to this meeting, I’ve been doing my reading on Zhou-san, trying to figure out what she would want from us. And I have...significant reservations about the level of human modification she’s advocated in the past. Implanting contact-style mechanisms directly into the cerebral cortex. Filling natural cavities within our body with artificially grown neural networks. Modulating hormone disbursement with implants on the adrenal and thyroid glands, gradually reshaping our bodies into barely recognizable husks.”

 

“You already have implants,” Sayaka pointed out, gesturing towards Kazahana’s hands. “So what’s the deal with the doomsday stuff?”

 

“At some point, if we modify ourselves enough, we won’t be human anymore,” Kazahana said. “We’ll be like Vader from the old Lucas films, ‘more machine than man’.”

 

“It’s not necessarily bad or good,” Sayaka hedged. “There’s some ways it will improve our lives, some ways it might not. Ultimately, it’ll still be our choice.”

 

Kazahana shook her head slowly. “We’ll say that to ourselves at first. That it’ll be our own choice, that we can stop any time we want. And maybe for you and I, who are well off and within the MSY hierarchy, there _will_ be that choice. But for ordinary humans, outside the realm of the hyperclass, it’ll be different.”

 

“I think your worries are unfounded,” Sayaka said calmly. “Any new implant will be carefully monitored before release.”

 

“It’s the frog in boiling water,” Kazahana said. “Each new change will feel like things are a little worse, but nothing to complain about-we’ve accepted everything before that, haven’t we? But eventually, we’ll end up with one neural implant monitoring our thoughts. Another implant at the base of the skull that secretes tiny amounts of morphine when we complete an assignment, or amphetamines when it senses us dozing off on the job. Throw in another pair in the adrenals to make you feel crushing anxiety whenever you think about leaving your job, and crippling depression whenever you don’t have one.”

 

“That’s hardly realistic,” Sayaka said. “There’ll be limits put on. We’ll never let it get that far.”

 

“If we want to stop things from ‘getting that far’,” Kazahana said, “maybe it’s time to start now.”

 

“We can’t stop technological progress,” Sayaka said. “Things that are going to be developed will be developed eventually, if not by us, then by somebody else.’

 

“But if it’s not us, it’ll be slower. We’ll have more time to discuss the implications as a society, more time to set limits. We _need_ that time. Just look at how fast the original Internet outstripped any ability of governments to regulate it. When something modifies our very bodies, we can’t afford to allow that to happen,” Kazahana said. “At least, that’s what my research has led me to believe.”

 

“How much of this is you talking,” Sayaka said, “and how much of this is your sources?”

 

“It’s both,” Kazahana said. “Before you go back in there, let me show you one of those sources. Do me a favor and at least bring it up when you and Zhou-san get back in the room together. I’d be interested to hear what she has to say for herself.” She flicked a finger towards Sayaka, and a file started downloading to the Mahoutai leader’s contacts.

 

Sayaka tapped the folder to open it, revealing a file labeled ‘Lhasa.pdf’, and three audio recordings.

 

“All primary sources,” Kazahana explained as Sayaka opened the documents. “The Chinese government buried it way back in the day, but I was able to acquire it from MSY assets in the Politburo. ”

 

Sayaka slowly scrolled down the document. Her eyes widened. “Why the hell didn’t you get me this earlier?” she demanded. “I would have taken a much harder line, if I came here at all.”

 

“There wasn’t enough time!” Kazahana protested. “Elise scheduled this ten days ago, and she’s had me on the Sevitè keynote or planning for this meeting that entire time. I only managed to get away long enough to call my contacts in China twice.”

 

“And that’s when you asked for it?” Sayaka asked. Kazahana nodded.

 

“Normally, whenever you want to meet with someone we don’t usually talk to, Elise is the red team, right?” Kazahana said. “She’s the one who commissions the oppo, she’s the one who tries to find weaknesses-both ours and the people we’re meeting with. But this is her meeting, and she wasn’t digging into it. So I did.”

 

Sayaka sighed, rubbing her forehead for a few moments. Finally, she asked, “What do you want me to do with this, Hana?”

 

“Shizuki-san?”

 

“What do you want me to _do?_ ” Sayaka asked, a hint of defeat creeping into her voice. “Storm out of the building? Tell Zhi Yi she’s a monster?”

 

“I want you,” Kazahana began, “to be fully informed before you make a decision that will shape both of our futures. Regardless of what you decide, I serve at your pleasure, and Elise’s. But I want you to be sure you can make the decision you think is right.” She paused, looking at Sayaka’s concerned expression. “Look over the documents. Take your time. Then, when you’re done...do what you think is right.”

 

\---

 

**9:47 AM**

 

“Have you considered our offer?” Yuma asked when Miyu returned to the room.

 

“I have, Madam Executive,” Miyu said noncommittally. Her face was blank as she returned to her seat on the couch, betraying nothing about the operator’s intentions. “It depends on the circumstances under which I would accept the position.”

 

“What do you mean, specifically?” Homura asked.

 

“If I were to be granted complete operational and political control over the Soul Guard, including an unlimited black budget, ability to fire, hire, and promote personnel at will, and implement new training programs, I would almost certainly accept,” Miyu said. “On the other hand, if I were to be a placeholder for Tomoe-san or Kuroi-san, under constant administration supervision and with no ability to request new funds or redistribute existing funds, I wouldn’t have much interest in the position.”

 

“We’ve never granted a Director the level of power and access you describe,” Yuma said. “Nor have we ever restrained a Director’s power to the degree you--

 

Miyu cocked her head. “Jasmine Fletcher,” she said simply. “All of the foreigners in the Soul Guard remember how she was treated during her ‘tenure’ as Director, such as it was. It was clear to those of us outside the inner circle that she was merely a placeholder.”

 

“It was the first time the Soul Guard had ever had a director from outside the MSY’s inner circle,” Homura said. “Right after the war with the SMC had ended. There were growing pains, and our Japanese membership did not warm quickly enough to her.”

 

“In this particular case, I’m not interested in the historical context,” Miyu said. “You might not have ordered the lack of cooperation Fletcher faced, but you didn’t combat it either. I am willing to accept the posting, but only if I am given the same powers and responsibilities as Kuroi-san or Tomoe-san would in my place, including the ability to fire or reassign employees I feel are impeding my ability to carry out my duties.”

 

“You’ll get full control of existing funding insofar as the Soul Guard’s governing regulations allow, as well as the administration’s full support on internal matters. ” Yuma said. Homura frowned, giving Yuma a sidelong glance. “If you want more funding relative to inflation, you’ll have to lobby the Rules Committee for it just like any other agency director. Any personal expenditures will require approval from Internal Affairs, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you.”

 

 _We didn’t agree to this,_ Homura quickly said.

 

 _It’s not an unreasonable request,_ Yuma replied. _And she’s right to be wary, and right to want full control. I wouldn’t take the job for anything less._

 

“Out of curiosity, what do you want to do with the funds?” Homura asked.

 

Miyu nodded. “Obviously, I haven’t had the time to come up with a full budget. For starters, I’d redistribute Task Force funding to better reflect the needs of different teams, along with a preallocated emergency fund shared between the entire program. I’d also want to phase SGI back in, although that probably wouldn’t be completed until near the end of my term.”

 

Homura tilted her head slightly. “Investigations was never phased out to begin with. We just folded it into Forensics during the 2130 reorganization.”

 

“Not Investigations,” Miyu agreed. “Soul Guard Intelligence.”

 

“Intelligence’s mission was deemed non-essential after the merger,” Yuma said. “With the SMC allied with us, the Haitians quickly requested to become a signatory. There were no other major groups we needed intelligence against, nor any other groups with meaningful intelligence operations to counter.”

 

“We don’t just need Intelligence for other magical girls,” Miyu said. “We’ve raised some hackles lately-remember the JTF2 thing with Aurora? The Canadian army definitely has bodycam footage. It’ll be classified, but we have to assume that they and their allies are aware that the force they were fighting that day was a bunch of teenage girls with superpowers.”

 

“We’ve already got people in the governments that matter,” Homura says. “Which governments and what positions specifically is classified. You’ll have to trust us when we tell you that we’ve taken care of any footage resulting from military interactions.”

 

“Doesn’t have to be governments either,” Miyu said. “You know, right now, when we go after human trafficking it’s just pattern recognition and surveillance that puts us onto their ships. It’s treating the symptoms, not the disease. If we had good intel, we could crush the operations before they loaded up any cargo containers with girls. But without a real intelligence apparatus with undercover operatives, SIGINT, and a dedicated training and logistics infrastructure to support that kind of operation, we won’t get our hands on that kind of intel.”

 

\---

 

**10:02 AM**

 

“Do you spend time with your colleagues outside of work?” Amanda asked.

 

Martha blinked, unsure of whether she was comfortable with this line of questioning. “Why is that important?” Martha asked.

 

“Please answer the question, miss Dahlgren.”

 

“Every now and then,” Martha replied. “I’m usually too tired after work to do anything else, so I just go home and watch vids for a bit before I sleep.”

 

“Have you ever engaged in sexual activity of any kind with a fellow employee?” Amanda asked.

 

Images of Kyouko involuntarily sprung into her mind before she pushed them away. Martha looked down, her fingers grasping handfuls of her skirt.“Yes!” she finally blurted out. “I know it’s against MSY policy but-”

 

“You are hardly the first person I’ve interviewed who flouted that particular MSY regulation,” Amanda said drily. “It’s not exactly a firing offense. Usually.” Next to her, Nanami giggled, no doubt privy to every image that had flitted through Martha’s mind in an instant.

 

“That’s...good to know,” Martha said.

 

“Have you ever had a sexual interaction with a direct supervisor?”

 

Martha shook her head. “Not a direct supervisor...but yes, someone ranked above me.”

 

Amanda looked at Nanami, who nodded. The interviewer continued, “Are you now or have you ever been in a romantic relationship with a fellow employee, including the employee you just referred to.”

 

Martha froze. Was what she had with Kyouko really a relationship? Or was it just a quick little fling? Sure, they had moderately expanded Martha’s resume in the past few days, but they’d never been to see a movie or gone to dinner or bought each other fliers or--

 

“I’m honestly not sure,” Martha said. Amanda glanced at Nanami again, and got another nod.

 

\----

 

**10:25 AM  
**

 

“Sorry for the delay,” Zhi Yi said, sliding open the balcony door and stepping out. “I see you’re enjoying the view.”

 

“It’s a good one,” Sayaka acknowledged, turning away from the railing. Kazahana sat up in her chair, still seemingly typing away but obviously engaged. “But unfortunately, our time to enjoy such things is limited. We should get back to business.”

 

“Certainly,” Zhi Yi nodded. “What kind of business would you like to discuss?”

 

“So while you were gone,” Sayaka began. “I did a bit of research of my own. Kazahana was kind enough to provide me with some ‘recommended reading’ on implant experimentation programs. It turns out that, for you at least, they were remarkably close to home. Lhasa, 2068.”

 

Zhi Yi sighed and turned around. “That was nearly a century ago. It was a different world-a different me. I’m wiser now than I was then.” Sayaka tilted her head slightly, watching Zhi Yi’s mind leave the present in her reflection on the tinted window glass, but said nothing. “You’re aware, of course, of the broad strokes of my past, correct?”

 

“Top marks in a rural Xinjiang school,” Kazahana said from rote. “Granted permission by the Chinese government to study overseas in the United States, where you completed a bachelor’s degree in biomedical engineering in three years and a doctorate in six.”

 

“Right,” Zhi Yi said. “I returned to China after I finished my doctorate, and spent the next two decades developing medical implant technology in the semiprivate sector. The Chinese government proper approached me for the first time in the 2050s, after I had just finished a successful prototype for a spinal-mounted sympathetic cardiac support implant. It could detect an abnormal heartrate or rhythm and order the adrenal glands to produce adrenaline or adenosine as necessary to level the heart off in potentially dangerous situations. Very useful for the aging bureaucratic class.”

 

“What’d they approach you about?” Sayaka asked.

 

Zhi Yi nodded. “The original concept as presented to our group by the Premier was...ambitious, to say the least. We were told to create a way to enforce the Party’s ideological restrictions through biological processes. Ideally, we were told, we would create a platform that could detect the thoughts of its wearer and cross-check them a list of party-determined hazardous ideas--cognitohazards, as we took to calling them internally.”

 

“How is that possible?” Sayaka asked. “I thought thought-translating technology wasn’t deployed until the 2130s.”

 

“It wasn’t,” Zhi Yi agreed. “The idea was ridiculously impractical given the technology of the time, but we didn’t know that. So we started the development process, and managed to create a chip that looked reasonably implantable and had a primitive but functional neural interface. Animal tests were promising enough to proceed to a human stage, and we were given lists of cognitohazards to assign for each round of experimentation. The first ones were simple and innocent enough: waterfalls, poison dart frogs, some of the idols in Nova Majo. Over time, the requests progressed from simple, physical objects to more abstract ideas and concepts.”

 

Sayaka turned away, disgusted. “And you were a good soldier all the way.”

 

Zhi Yi shook her head. “I didn’t think I had a choice. The project was beyond top secret for obvious reasons. If I had refused to work on the project after being told of its true nature, they would have turned me into a test subject and then shot me when they were finished. But eventually, I thought of another way out. The experiments had to fail, and catastrophically so. The collapse of the next round of tests had to be so complete and devastating that the Chinese government would never consider a similar research path again.”

 

“You sabotaged the experiments,” Kazahana sighed.

 

Zhi Yi turned around, nodding. “One of the programmers had a habit of forgetting to secure his workstation during lunch breaks. He left a key file open, and I was able to make a minor modification to the interface connecting the brain to the implant. When testing on the next software iteration resumed, all of the implanted test subjects died immediately, even the ones not exposed to listed cognitohazards.” She paused, looking at Kazahana and then to Sayaka. “I killed the test subjects, yes, but to save the minds of others. Given the nature of the Lhasa subjects...they likely would have made the same choice themselves.”

 

Sayaka pondered this for a little longer, watching the scant few birds who had managed to adapt themselves to Tianjin’s decisively urban environment scavenge for crumbs on the rooftop.

 

“Give us another moment,” she finally said. “We need to discuss this with our allies.”

 

Zhi Yi nodded. “Of course,” she agreed. “I’ll be waiting.”

\---

 

**10:35 AM**

 

Kyouko’s spear lunged forward at the urging of her magic, twisting sideways to wrap around Iwalani’s left flank. The operator batted the spear aside with her shield, lunging forward for a counterthrust that Kyouko barely managed to sidestep. In the blink of an eye, Kyouko grabbed Iwalani’s spear with her left hand and pulled, sticking out her foot to trip her as she moved forward.

 

Instead, the spear disappeared in Kyouko’s hands, an identical weapon reappearing in Iwalani’s hands. Kyouko scrambled backwards, whirling her segmented spear and barely managing to deflect two rapid thrusts. Within a few steps, the Ancient felt more than heard the gravel dislodged by her feet falling over the edge of the ‘rooftop’, and leapt into the air, turning over once as she landed on the next building over. With nothing else to do, Iwalani leaped after her.

 

 _Got you,_ Kyouko grinned, waving her hand and conjuring a massive wall of spiky red wire directly in Iwalani’s path. Her grin vanished when the wall shattered into a hundred pieces, effortlessly penetrated by a massive spear swing from Iwalani. Kyouko struck again as the islander set her feet, battering away at the operator’s shield with her spear and using every inch of flexibility her spear had to bend around the shield in hopes of landing a blow.

 

Frustrated, Kyouko spun around, bringing her spear down as one solid line from above with its entire length for leverage. Iwalani’s shield finally shattered under the blow, and Kyouko dashed forward, looking for the killing strike. Iwalani’s arm dropped low, a pistol appearing from a holster hidden behind her back.

 

Three shots rang out, slamming into Kyouko’s chest and knocking her backwards. The ancient began to sit up, only to meet Iwalani’s spear at her throat.

 

“That was cheating!” Kyouko complained. “You’re not supposed to have a gun!”

 

“On the battlefield, there are no rules,” Iwalani said flatly. A moment later, she grinned, extending a hand. “You fought well, for a desk jockey.”

 

“I’m not a desk jockey!” Kyouko protested. She tried to sit up, blood soaking her uniform. “On second thought, maybe you should call a healer over here.”

 

“Probably a good idea,” Iwalani said. She tapped something into her contacts. “Anyways, if you want to keep training together, I’m in town for a while. But more focused next time. Your footwork is sloppy, and your style leaves you vulnerable to attack.”

 

“I lasted pretty long against you,” Kyouko complained.

 

“Good friends and good allies make each other stronger,” Iwalani said. “I’ll make you better, and you’ll make me better. There are a dozen things I want to improve on as well, so you can help me with those.”

 

“You won, though,” Kyouko pointed out. “No need for you to improve.”

 

Iwalani shook her head. “In my unit, just winning isn’t good enough. Only perfection. And I’m far from perfect.”

 

\---

 

**10:46 AM**

 

“What’s next?” Homura asked Yuma.

 

“We’re clear for fifteen minutes,” Yuma sighed. “What did you think of Monroe-san?”

 

Homura shook her head, folding her hands in her lap. “I don’t like her. I don’t think she’d provide the steady hand the Soul Guard needs. In these times, the last thing we need is a full reorganization of our enforcement group.”

 

Yuma nodded. “I understand your concerns, Homura, but I don’t agree. What Monroe-san proposed was ambitious, but hardly a full retool. Most departments would be left untouched.”

 

“How do we pay for SGI?” Homura asked. “How do we justify it to the Rules Committee? We couldn’t do it when the war ended, what makes things different now? If we can’t secure additional funding for the Soul Guard in general to cover the entire cost of starting a new SGI unit, it would have to come from other groups. Whose operations do we cripple to pay for this?”

 

“We’ll figure it out if and when you decide,” Yuma said. “I haven’t checked, but I think we could get the votes, if we fought for it.” She paused for a moment, typing a rapid message into her contacts. “In any case, it was just a short list interview. If you don’t love her straight away, we may as well ask in everyone else, just to give you some options.”

 

“I’ll probably just go with Kana anyways,” Homura sighed. “We need experienced hands at the wheel. Whether they’re Japanese or not shouldn’t make any difference.”

 

“It _does_ make a difference, Homura,” Yuma insisted. “Choosing just our friends from Japan was fine when we were just starting out back in the twenty-first century. It’s not fine when we’re running a worldwide government. We don’t have a big enough army, let alone a public one, that we can use to maintain integrity. People only let us run things because we make them feel involved, valued and listened to. We can’t maintain that impression when there’s only seven foreigners in the entire government in upper management positions, and the top positions are held by a rotating carousel of your personal friends. Just this week, there was a Mahoutai press release calling us a corrupt oligarchy, and a Sorcierè backbencher bashed the racist policies of our administration.”

 

“I don’t care what people outside our administration think about our appointments,” Homura said firmly. “I’m going to choose the people that I think are best suited for the jobs we need filled.”

 

“Then do it,” Yuma shot back. “We’ve got plenty of foreigners in middle management roles that haven’t been promoted in decades. Next time organizational roles get shuffled around, move some of them up. Give them a chance to prove they can do more. That way, our whole organization won’t be crippled if Mami accidentally drops her Soul Gem under a car!”

 

Homura paused for a moment. “I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “Send in the next appointment.”

  


**10:52 AM  
**

 

“How are things going?” Elise asked Sayaka, pacing around her office in Kazamino. “Are we close to a deal?”

 

“The deal would be pretty simple normally. But there’s been a hangup.” Sayaka said. Kazahana looked up.

 

 _Don’t tell Elise I found it,_ Kazahana said.

 

 _Why not?_ Sayaka said. _You did the legwork, you should get the credit._

 

“What hangup?” Elise asked.

 

 _She was_ very _insistent that I make this deal work. She’d fire me for sure if she knew I did something to sabotage it_.

 

“We...came across some documentation of some Chinese experiments,” Sayaka said. Quickly, she explained the contents of the Lhasa file to Elise.

 

“She did the right thing in the end, right?” Elise said. “Do we even disagree on that?”

 

“Maybe she did, but she still ran _two years_ of experiments on political prisoners before her change of heart!” Kazahana shouted. “This isn’t acceptable. We need to be able to look ourselves in the eyes at the end of the day.”

 

“Kazahana has a valid point,” Sayaka said. “If we have to be looking over our shoulder every day hoping that our allies’ skeletons won’t be discovered, then we have to question whether they are doing more harm than good. Not just to our cause, but to us as well.”

 

“Look,” Elise cut in. “If you’re going to go out and look for every possible reason to shoot down everything I suggest to _get you elected_ , I’m not sure what I can do. We need votes from _somewhere_ and I can get them for you, but you need to not tie both hands behind my back.” She paused briefly, sighing with dismay. “We can make each other stronger, but you have to be willing to _work_ with me. Sometimes I’ll grit my teeth and do things I think are a bad idea because you think it’s best, and yes, sometimes you’ll have to grit your teeth and do things my way. And if you don’t think my way ever works...perhaps you would be better served by someone else’s counsel.”

 

Sayaka sighed in return. “Maybe,” she said. “Look, I think on the whole the stuff she talked about wasn’t that crazy, it’s just the political angle that mainly bothers me now.”

 

“Tell her yes,” Elise said. “I will take full responsibility for how it plays out. If things go badly, I’ll take the fall for it. You can fire me then.”

 

“I’m the face of the party,” Sayaka said. “It’s my responsibility.”

 

“I was responsible for vetting Zhi Yi,” Elise continued. “When it emerged that I had missed serious ethical concerns during my vetting process, you cut ties with Zhi Yi and fired the staffer responsible for carrying out the vetting. That will be the story.”

 

Sayaka stood and paced around the balcony. _I’m sorry_ , she said to Kazahana, before continuing, “Acceptable. I’ll finalize things with Zhi Yi soon.”

 

**5:25 PM**

 

Kana’s fingers darted from virtual key to virtual key, typing out a routine memo on Soul Guard Task Force readiness.  


_Task Force Aurora...fully operational. Task Force Endurance...on extended deployment, not rapid response capable. Task Force Cook...rotated out for RRO, operational responsibilities divided between Task Force Emu and Task Force Drake until November 2159._

 

The Founder sighed, rubbing her eyes. Mami had insisted on implementing yearly Rest/Recruiting/Onboarding breaks for each major task force, supposedly to help protect the mental health of the operators and ensure new recruits had time to train outside a field environment. Due to the way Task Forces were structured to cover specific geographic areas and specialty mission types, this required other Task Forces to spend additional time cross-training to cover the relevant mission types, and inevitably led to mistakes in the field.

 

She would have to monitor the activities of Task Force Emu especially closely on seafaring missions. Ideally, TF Drake would take on missions with significant naval elements, but with Endurance on an extended mission into the Antarctic center, Emu would have to take point on at least some naval interdiction missions, a mission type they were neither equipped nor trained for.

 

 _Recommend cancellation of TF Endurance’s mission,_ she typed. _Interdicting human trafficking is a high priority for the administration, and this capability is meaningfully compromised in the current force deployment due to TF Emu’s lack of subject matter experience. Additionally, TF Endurance’s current targets cannot be sustained by Antarctica’s wraith population, requiring that they eventually return to a civilian area, where they can be reacquired by the relevant regional Soul Guard branch. If desired, part of Endurance can be deployed on standby on South Georgia Island to respond as necessary._

 

Another ping popped up in Kana’s viewfield. She stopped typing, signaling the document to open with a flick of her hand.

 

_Secure Intelligence Clearance Application Review_

 

_Date: 07/21/2159_

_Subject: DAHLGREN, Martha_

_Evaluators: Ruiko, Nanami ; MacLeod, Amanda_

 

_Emotional Stability: Acceptable (see attached files for more information)_

_Blackmail Vulnerability: Low_

_Loyalty to MSY: Acceptable_

_Capacity to Contribute: High_

 

_Application Status: CONDITIONALLY APPROVED._

 

_Notes: Subject should be closely monitored for emotional distress, possibly related to romantic relationships. Access to classified information should be terminated immediately upon signs of problems outside work. Subject’s immediate supervisor is responsible for monitoring Subject’s emotional status and providing regular reports to Evaluators._

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive wait for this chapter. There were serious issues during the editing process, and the combination of school and my rapidly deteriorating hands didn't help either.
> 
> Some people have told me on Discord the paragraph spacing bothers them. I'll go back later today and clean that up, hopefully. 
> 
> Ideally, the next chapter will be done in four to six weeks. Realistically, we could be in for another long wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to give a huge thanks to Hieronym for agreeing to allow this work and helping with its creation, as well as Crasian, Vyslante, and OceanusXIV of the TtS Discord server for betaing for me at various stages of the process. 
> 
> Waits between chapters might be lengthy, but shouldn't be much longer than a month or two, barring IRL stuff.


End file.
